The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga
by Galadriel Tolkien
Summary: A new girl joins the X-Men, but her past is longer than the Equator....
1. Finding That Spark of Beginning

Disclaimer thingie: Marvel owns the X-Men and all of their relatives. BBC/Lionheart own Doctor Who and Ms. Sam-Jones. Highlander is, iirc, owned by Rysher Entertainment. Buffy is owned by Joss Whedon (all hail the Master) and Fox/WB.   
Marya, otoh, is mine. Borrow her without asking and I'll have my lackeys get medieval on your roody-poo candy ass.   
  
PG13/R for swearing and some nastiness.   
Author's notes: I've been tricked into rewriting a ton of X-history, so bear with me.   
  
Dedication: To Lynxie, because she's half-co-plotter, or something. And because she wouldn't let me stop writing -.- To Acetal for betaing this monster, it ain't over yet, bub. To KayJay and Mitai and Alicia for the origin of the crazy idea. And to Tapestry for helping Lynxie kick me and get it finished.   
  
And, last but not least, this is--for those few who haven't been involved with it--a Challenge. Guess the Author.   
  
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga, 1  
Finding That Spark of Beginning  
by Suzy DeZorga  
  
It was going to be one of those days.   
  
Life in the ever-complicated and oft-destroyed and rebuilt X-Mansion was never easy. But then there were days like this. Days when you were dragged shopping with your arch-enemy (not that you called her that, or let anyone KNOW that she was that. Oh, no, you just grinned and bore it and tried not to kill her 'accidentally') and her lovely cohorts.   
  
Of course, I had brought this horrible occurrence upon myself just by living. I seemed to attract trouble, wherever I went. Like that time in Salzburg when the little Gestapo officer caught me hiding with that lovely family. They got out and went on to singing stardom. Me? I ended up in yet another rat-infested cell for a few months. Had some fun seducing the officers, of course.   
  
The mall being our destination, I decided to be charitable and let Jean drive. Jean Grey, once possessor of the Phoenix Force. Not that THAT was all that great a pedigree. As the mother of the Phoenix Force, I should know. But, back to Jean, the redheaded love of a man *I* found myself in love with. Thorn in the side, annoyance...   
  
"Marya, Zales or Sam Goody first?" Jean asked cheerfully.   
  
Considering we were apparently Christmas shopping, I decided not to answer that one on the grounds I'd sound bitchy. Luckily, Rogue answered for me.   
  
"Ah'd like to hit that glove store, first."   
  
"We could split up," Jean said, a bit uncertainly. She was trying to act like she wanted us to all have Fun together.   
  
The other two shoppers with us were the lovely Weather Goddess-turned-lackey, Storm. And, aside from Rogue -- our resident Southe'n Belle, was Betsy Braddock. The purple-haired Braddock was the resident Ninja.   
  
I think she just didn't want me roaming around with one of Xavier's credit cards.   
  
"Jean, why don't you go with Rogue?" Betsy suggested. "I can go with Marya and Storm."   
  
"That's okay, I'm--" Fine on my own, my brain completed as Jean overrode me.   
  
"That's perfect! Ororo, you and Betsy can show Marya around the mall." She turned to leave our vicinity with Rogue, then called over her shoulder, "And don't forget the Secret Santa gifts for our visitors!"   
  
"Like we could forget," I muttered.   
  
Betsy's soft chuckle told me she agreed with me on that. "Let's go, ladies. I need to find that perfect gift for Warren."   
  
"And I, Charles," Ororo said calmly. It was the first thing the Weather Goddess had said in some time. She didn't like me.   
  
At least, that's what the tendrils of emotion that slipped past my shields told me. I reached out and strengthened them as the mall patrons began penetrating them. Stupid of me not to remember to thicken them before entering. A melange of frenzy, hysteria and greed slammed into me for an instant, then was gone into soothing silence.   
  
Neither of my companions had noticed my falter, and I was grateful. Wouldn't do for any of them to guess how powerful and sensitive I actually was. Charles Xavier, planet's greatest telepath? *Bzzzzzz* Sorry. Wrong answer. Thanks to my genes, I'm apparently the world's most powerful telempath. Considering my parentage, it shouldn't come as a surprise.   
  
From everything I've been able to piece together, my parents are a test tube containing gene pieces from a thousand different mutants and Inhumans. From what the Mother Askani told me as I was sent back through several time storms, I'm the saviour of the world. Or something like that.   
  
I was never asked, just told. And then dropped into the Middle Ages to start learning. Not that it wasn't fun, or anything. I happen to like swinging a twenty-two pound sword around...   
  
But I digress. The current situation is that I'm a member -- or, will be, once I pass my initiation -- of the X-Men. A group of mutants battling the baddies in a world that fears and hates them. And, in a few days, the various auxillary teams of the extended X-Family will be joining us at the mansion for the Christmas and New Year holidays.   
  
And so, we were to find extra gifts for them. In case they forgot it was Christmas. My streak of perversity was urging me to the most expensive store. My practical side suggested the dollar store. And my playful side won out.   
  
We went to Kay Bee.   
  
----   
  
Shopping the week before Christmas in a toy store is an art form composed of elbows, knees and a few hip-checks. I made it to the aisle of the Boy and began grabbing small things. A few toy cars, a few action figures -- GI Joe, Transformers and Beastmaster -- and a few of the strange little gadgets like yoyos with wrestling stars on them. Somewhere nearby I could hear Storm muttering under her breath. The poor thing was claustrophobic. I thought about that for a moment then decided to get a few puzzles too.   
  
It's not that I'm unfeeling or anything. But if we wanted to get out of this bloody mall any time SOON, it would require fortitude from all of us. Still...   
  
"Ororo?" I called. Best to not use our code names -- might tip off the shoppers that we were super-heroes.   
  
"Yes, Marya?" Good. She was still speaking to me.   
  
"Could you take care of this stuff while I try to find a few other things?" A sort of lie. I doubted any of the women on the X-Teams wanted Barbie for Christmas.   
  
Well, maybe some of the blondes might. I halted that train of thought and handed over the small basket of goodies to Ororo as she exited her aisle. "Here, love. Get these checked out and go sit on a bench. Betsy and I should be out eventually."   
  
The Goddess gave me an odd look, then nodded regally and appropriated my basket. "I shall do so."   
  
"Cool." My only concession to the slang of the time was the word cool. At least, that's what I tried to tell myself as I wended my way to where Braddock was inspecting the stuffed animals. Poor girl was boxed into the corner, shoppers milling around her. A few gaped at her hair. Most ignored it, though. In a day and age when green hair was common, purple was generally not considered interesting.   
  
Now, blue skin might have caused comment. In the Middle Ages it hadn't, of course, thanks to the Scot and Irish Berserkers. But in this day and age of skin-colour and sexual preference making you what you were...I had a feeling the Irish Berserkers would have already finished their own space station to get away from the heathens.   
  
I waved cheerily to Betsy and stepped into the corner, snagging a few stuffed rabbits. "Shall we hit the checkout? I hear there's a twenty minute wait at the moment."   
  
"Indeed." Braddock nodded coolly. "Shall we?"   
  
I nodded and turned to go. And found myself rudely shoved backwards by a woman in her thirties. She was mumbling under her breath and sort of careening around, searching for presents.   
  
"You know," I said to Betsy conversationally, as I shoved an elbow between two shoppers and snagged her arm dragging us both clear of the bottleneck, "people used to be more intelligent and kind."   
  
"Did they?" she asked dryly, as we high-tailed it to the checkout area, our purchases in hand.   
  
"Not really, but it seemed like something to say at the time." I flashed a silly grin at her.   
  
She smiled back, and for an instant the shadows in her eyes disappeared and they sparkled a lovely amethyst. The eyes matched the hair, both purple and brilliant. Personally, I sorta wished I had her hair. Mine was too bloody different to ever do anything but attract attention.   
  
Thanks to the gene stew that was my heritage, my hair was several colours. Red, black, brown, blonde, and that didn't even count a few of the neon highlights. My eyes matched it, with both wavering between blue, green, brown, amber and black. I'd heard that Braddock had gone through the Siege Perilous among other things. Apparently the body she now had wasn't exactly her own.   
  
I wouldn't mind a trip through the Siege myself, if I ended up looking short and dumpy at the end. The bane of my existance -- although, I must admit being able to go dancing on rooftops without any problems is useful. Anyway, the bane of my existence being the hair, the well-toned body, and the bust. All women are not graced equally.   
  
The clerk at the counter had a hard time raising her eyes from my cleavage. I fought down a sigh and wondered how a t-shirt that proclaimed "I'm a bitch, ask me how." could be attractive. Of course, it was black. But that's beside the point.   
  
After making our purchases, Betsy and I exited the over-crowded store and fought through an eddy of shopping traffic to find Storm seated on a bench near the center of the mall. The Weather Goddess was looking calmer. She stood up and came toward us as we approached. "Betsy, Marya, I believe our next stop should be the bookstore and then the music store."   
  
"As they're next to each other, we could even do both," Betsy said, grinning slightly.   
  
Storm smiled at her and nodded to me. "Shall we?"   
  
"Certainly," I replied, grinning myself. "Gift certificates, and my Secret Santa present for Remy are up next."   
  
"Indeed. I must find Charles'." The Weather Goddess looked at me. "Are you certain--"   
  
"I'll be able to find something for Remy? Yeah." I grinned even more. "Reallly won't be a problem. Trust me on that one."   
  
I'd grown up with Remy LeBeau. Oh, not completely, but when the second time storm removed me from Egypt, I was in the Bayou, and a man by the name of Henri LeBeau found me sprawled on his front porch the next morning. I spent the next seven years of my life learning to be a thief and an assassin, as Henri's cousin Girard taught me both. "You're gonna be a lov'ly lady, gal, needta learn everyt'in'." And so he taught me to defend myself and kill. And Henri taught me to steal. Sounds all great, huh?   
  
Remy himself was my first kiss. I was a blossoming thirteen at the time and had just discovered boys. Remy was fifteen and in love with Belle, the daughter of one of the assassins. Devious person that I am, I convinced him practise was a good thing. I sighed, remembering how the night after that little kissing session, a time storm dragged me away and landed me in the Middle Ages. King Arthur's time, to be precise.   
  
And some people think living on the street is primitive. Bah. It's nothing compared to living in an age that believes bathing will destroy your mind.   
  
I found myself wondering if Storm was upset that I'd drawn Remy in the Secret Santa gift exchange, then shrugged. She could deal with it, I was sure. After all, the lad mooned over Rogue.   
  
Which brought me to remembering my first glimpse of the vaunted X-Men.   
  
I'd been asked by Nick Fury to 'visit' the X-Men, due to the fact that he wanted an operative of some sort watching them. From the inside, as it were. Since I'd left the Avengers about three years before, I'd been a freelance mercenary, pulling jobs here and there. And running into bloody SHIELD.   
  
Sable Enterprises had employed me to recover a security system. Unfortunately, the lady that runs that operation neglected to tell me it was a SHIELD installation I was raiding. Colour me surprised when Nick Fury himself apprehended me. Luckily, he decided to get me drunk and pump me for info on Sable. Also, luckily, I have a high alcohol tolerance and knew nothing about Sable.   
  
Drinking Nick Fury under the table was apparently cause for respect. A week later, I was let go with instructions to try NOT to burgle him again. And then a month later, I got a message. He had a job for me. I did that job, killed some people, and got him the info. Three months later, he called again. And so it went like that until about a week ago.   
  
"Marya, I need you to run a rig for me. But it's...complicated." Fury sounded a bit hesitant. Nick NEVER sounded hesitant.   
  
I refrained from hanging up on him and asked the fatal question. "Complicated, how?"   
  
"We need you to join the X-Men."   
  
I let the silence drag, then gave in and doubled over, laughing. "Nick," I gasped out around my semi-hysteria, "Nick, let me talk to you face to face on this, okay?"   
  
He sounded relieved when he agreed to a time and place.   
  
Once Nick explained the assignment to me -- over hot cocoa and muffins at a local coffee shoppe --I decided to accept it. After all, how often do you get to play with such legendary figures as the X-Men? He fixed some things and called in a favour with Charles Xavier, and boom. I was in like fleece on a lamb.   
  
A young man with tousled blond hair answered the door to my knock. He took in my black leather jacket over black jeans and t-shirt with the "I'm a Slayer, ask me how" logo on it (The shirt had been a gift from an old friend of mine. Suffice it to say, Rupert was now Watching a young Slayer by the name of Buffy.) and then spotted my luggage.   
  
I interrupted him before he could ask. "Hi, I'm Marya DeZorga. SHIELD sent me as a liasion. And you would be?" I asked politely, even though I knew from the hair and picture from the file that this was Samuel Guthrie, aka Cannonball.   
  
"Hallo, ma'am, Ah'm Sam Guthrie. C'mon in, I'll fetch the Professor."  
  
He turned and left before I had a chance to respond. I shrugged, grinned and grabbed my bag off the stoop and stepped in. The front hall I stepped into reminded me of those facades on the old shops in Chinatown and other portions of downtown New York. As if it was just what you were supposed to see, that there was something else underneath. I thinned my shields and let little feelers of empathy slip around. They slithered out into other rooms, encountering a few people and plants, then the awareness expanded up above me and below.   
  
Underground. It made sense that the living quarters would be there, my mind agreed. On the edge of my perception, I sensed a mind, searching. For mine? A telepath. Quickly, I pulled back everything and thinned out my shields, pulling the layer that was my public mind up and to the fore. Let whoever it was read that. No way in hell they were getting any deeper into my mind.   
  
A sound came from down the corridor and three people stepped into view, then stopped, blinking at me. The middle one was tall and dark, a tattoo of an 'M' over his right eye. The look he gave me made me almost laugh. It was so blatantly an "I'm a big, badass security guard! You will respect Mah Authoritay!" look. The man to his right was lazily appraising me with red eyes rimmed in black. His hair was longer and curlier, and he was taller, but I knew him.   
  
The third person in the trio was a grinning young man with dark blond hair and blue eyes. He had an air about him as if he was waiting for the next opportunity to crack a joke. My mind automatically labeled them Clown, Guard and Thief before I was able to pull out the relevant file pages (mentally) and call them Bobby, Bishop and Remy.   
  
"Hello, gentlemen." I nodded coolly to them, waiting for their leader to appear. After all, he was the one I really needed to impress. "Marya DeZorga."   
  
"Allo, chere, I'm Remy LeBeau, this here guard-dog is Bishop and yon drooling puppy be Bobby Drake." Remy made the introductions.   
  
I nearly told him I knew who he was, then decided to wait. "Hallo." We all politely shook hands, Remy kissing the back of mine extravagantly.   
  
As he straightened, another movement came from the hall and a bald man in a wheelchair entered. Charles Xavier. World-premiere telepath, Headmaster of the Xavier institute for Higher Learning and leader of the X-Men. He looked at me and held out his hand. "Miss DeZorga, I presume."   
  
"It's Ms," I corrected, taking his hand and smiling charmingly. "And, yes, 'tis I." I tilted my head to the side, mischief getting the better of me. "Actually, it's Marya Louisa Susanna DeZorga, to be precise."   
  
And that didn't cover the myriad titles I'd accrued over the centuries.   
  
The Professor, to his credit, didn't blink at the long rolling list of names. He merely nodded and turned to Bobby. "Robert, if you could please find Scott and Jean, and have them meet me in my study?" As Bobby nodded, looked at me one last time and scampered off, he turned to Bishop and Remy. "And if the two of you might find the rest of the students?"   
  
"Yes, sir," Bishop nodded. Remy winked at me and followed the hulking guard out of the room.   
  
"If you will follow me?" He wheeled around and started down the hall. I silently followed him through a sumptuously decorated house and into a well-appointed study on the ground floor. It was paneled in mahogany and red leather. Er, the seats were red leather, the carpet red and a golden brown to complement the rest of the room. Xavier wheeled himself behind a large cherry wood desk and looked up at me. "Have a seat," he gestured.   
  
I looked at the two leather and wood chairs, shrugged, and flopped into the left-hand one. The one nearest the windows. I have a window fetish, I admit it. I like knowing where they are and being able to get to them and then go through them, if need be. Must be the thief in me.   
  
As he studied me, so I studied him. There wasn't much to see, at first. Just an older man (well, not to me, but...) completely bald, a set of dark, but clear, blue eyes. They were intelligent too. He knew I was looking him over, just as I knew that he was. Distantly, I could feel his mind probing around mine, looking for cracks. He wouldn't find any. I'm a telempath and I'm 1000 years old, give or take a few years -- I've gotten to the point of rounding things like that up, recently. My training and shields are about as high and refined as you can get.   
  
My 'public mind' is the only thing he could possibly read. It's a collection of thoughts and memories that amount to about twenty-five years of life. It's multi-layered, complex, and reads as 'me'. It isn't, but it does. The painstaking layering that had gone into that shield had taken nearly an entire day, and left me exhausted for a week. Don't ever let anyone tell you mind powers don't beg a price. It's just like running a 50k marathon.   
  
Xavier finally broke the silence. "Tell me, Ms. DeZorga," he steepled his fingers and leaned forward, still studying me. "Why are you here?"   
  
"Fury sent me. Said you needed another player -- that there'd been some threats and such against your person." I nodded at him. "As a bodyguard, for you, specifically."   
  
"And you're a mutant."   
  
It wasn't a question. Fury had obviously sent him my file, "Yes. Telempath, partial TK and a dollop of something that promotes the re-knitting of tissue. A healing factor, if you will." One thing I'd learned long ago. Tell them the truth and they always underestimate you.   
  
While I was musing on that lovely fact, the door behind me opened and several people bustled in. The one in the lead was a statuesque redhead with green eyes and a lovely smile. Behind her ranged Bobby, and another man with brown hair and a business-like look. He looked tired, too. I guessed he was the one that handled the leading side of everything.   
  
"Ah, Scott, Jean, Bobby." The Professor nodded at all three in turn and waved at me. "This is Marya DeZorga. She'll be joining us a tactical consultant and as a back-up to Jean."   
  
Scott turned to look at me, his look impersonal. "And she was recommended to us, by?" The man was worried, I could tell from the way his emotions were coloured. He didn't trust me, he didn't trust whoever had sent me, and he was a bit upset that the Professor obviously did.   
  
"Nick Fury," I said, and watched shock and a bit of fear cross his face before he closed down and pulled on his poker face. "And he sent me to help. Hell, once he explained the reason for the forming of the X-Men, I almost volunteered."   
  
"Why?"   
  
"I've seen too much war. Peace is a good thing." For an instant, I thought of telling him how many wars I'd lived through. How often I'd seen people killed for no reason other than that they were different. But I knew he wouldn't believe me. Just like they wouldn't believe that I was old enough to be all of their ancestors. And just might have been.   
  
Bobby snorted and grinned at me. "You sound so serious when you say that. Lighten up, lady."   
  
For an instant I looked at him, the weight of centuries pressing down on me. He flinched. I grinned. "I always do."   
  
"Now that you've finished interrogating the newest memeber of our team, Scott, I'd like you to--" The Professor was cut off as the door swung open again and several more people walked in. In the lead was someone I recognised.   
  
"As you requested, Professor, I have brought--"   
  
I was out of my chair and pouncing Logan before Bishop could finish his statement. I think I startled Logan. I know I startled everyone else. "Logan, luv, haven't seen you in bloody ages!"   
  
"Suzy!" He looked at me, surprised, then chuckled softly, playing along with my exuberance. "I take it you've gotten yourself in trouble again."   
  
"Me?" I stepped back from the hug and attempted to look innocent and sweet. Logan wasn't having any of it, so I grinned and shrugged. "Well, sort of."   
  
He snorted and turned to the Professor. "She's a handful and trouble, but she'll back us unto death."   
  
I felt touched. It was the nicest thing I'd ever heard Logan say about me. "Doing it too brown, m'friend."   
  
"Yes." He looked at me, his eyes suddenly turning serious. "I know you."   
  
Blinking, I stepped back for a second before recovering. I understood what he was saying, since he was projecting it discreetly. Don't mess with his people, and don't screw their lives up and he wouldn't kill me. "Yes, you do," I replied softly, before turning to the rest and sticking out a hand. "Hi, I'm Marya DeZorga, and you all are..?"   
  
It was Braddock who approached me first. Her purple hair was held away from her face by a scrunchy, and her clothing told me she must've been working out. She looked at me neutrally as she shook my hand. "Elizabeth Braddock."   
  
"Nice to meet you."   
  
One by one the others introduced themselves. Ororo Munroe, white hair, gorgeous brown skin. Scott Summers, who nearly got asked if he had any relatives in Sunnydale, CA. Jean Grey, who smiled at me and made sure to flash her engagement ring for my perusal. I was betting it was Scott she'd bagged. Bishop, who shook my hand and tried to break it. Or at least make me cry out. I didn't. Rogue, who shook my hand with hers in a glove and made me almost ask if that white streak in her hair was dyed. Warren Worthington the Third, who shook my hand and flashed that playboy smile and made me wonder why he wasn't off chatting with his stock broker. And then there was Remy.   
  
"Hallo, Ma'amselle, I--"   
  
"Hallo, Remy," I interrupted him, smirking slightly. "Nice to see you again."   
  
The recognition that had surfaced for an instant earlier and then been buried under disbelief came back. "Louisa?"   
  
"Yep." I hugged him, as he stood, frozen. I stepped back and looked at his face in concern. "I'm sorry to have broken it to you this way, but..."   
  
"Non, 'tis okay, ma cherie." He hugged me fiercely for an instant, then let me go and grinned. "Dis could turn out to be a fun gig, neh?"   
  
I snorted. "This isn't a gig. Is it?"   
  
There was more discussion, but it was boring and I tuned it out, since my brain would catch it and I could review it later. Instead, I tried to figure out where the research scientist rumoured to be on the premises, one Dr Henry McCoy, was. According to my sources, the man was a mutant and covered in blue fur. He also was researching the Legacy virus, something that interested me greatly. I wanted Legacy destroyed. Plus, I wondered if he would remember meeting me.   
  
Three days later, I still haven't met the elusive Dr McCoy. I'm beginning to suspect he's a figment of everyone's imaginations. Considering that three-quarters of what everyone considers the 'Chivalry' of the ages is imagination, this wouldn't surprise me.  
  
At the moment, though, what was surprising me was the sight of Ororo Munroe, Weather Goddess, dancing absently to the music over the sound system in the Sam Goody we were in. I stopped remembering the last few days and listened to the music.   
  
~o/Love me, hate me, hurt me and break me.  
Want me and take me, but don't ever leave me!/o~   
  
It was techno. Chick techno, and it was British. It was also something I recognised, having gone clubbing in Britain earlier in the year. Republica had finally hit the States.   
  
"Lovely song, innit?" I said conversationally.   
  
"Hm?" Storm looked up from sorting through a stack of cds.   
  
"I said -- never mind. D'you think I should get the new Pet Shop Boys single for someone?" It was the first innocuous question I could come up with.   
  
Ororo blinked at me and for an instant, something flickered in her eyes then was gone. "Actually, I believe Jubilee might like that."   
  
"Good. Thought so." I picked it up, smiling to myself, and wandered off to find a few more small items to make Xavier's charge cards rack up more points.   
  
I will be the first to admit that I think I'm right too much. I'm also wrong, on occasion. Not usually, though. We'd agreed to meet Rogue and Jean in the food court. Now, a food court is one of those places where it is technically impossible to find any members of your party -- until you've bought something to eat. Knowing this, I decided to be the one to break down and spend money at one of the over-priced eating establishments. They were hot dog stands, masquerading as eateries.   
  
As I approached one of the food stands, a burger and fries place, I realised that the head in line in front of me was very familiar. "Hallo, Rogue," I said, slipping into line behind her.   
  
She started and turned to look at me. "Marya."   
  
"You ladies get all your shopping done?" I asked, cordially.   
  
"Ya could say that." Rogue wrinkled her nose. "I keep forgetting that Jeannie's such a perfectionist."   
  
"Is she?" I cocked my head to the side and grinned. "Bet she's an eldest child, then." I winked conspiratorially to Rogue. "They tend to be masochistic perfectionists."   
  
Rogue laughed. "That ain't the half of it, ya know." She leaned in close and whispered. "She stood Scott up -- but he took her back. Man's got it bad for her."   
  
"Stood Scott up?" I raised both eyebrows and leaned closer. "Do tell me more."   
  
"Well," Rogue glanced around. "Look, Jean's coming, I'll tell you later, 'k?"  
  
"Sure." I grinned and gestured. "Your turn."   
  
As Rogue went up to the cashier to order, Jean stepped into line behind me. A minute passed, then her curiosity got the better of her. "What were you two talking about?"   
  
"Later, love. 's my turn." I flashed a smile over my shoulder at her and went up to order.   
  
I was puzzling over why Rogue had decided to gossip with me. Maybe it was the fact that Jean was doing her best to make me out to be scum. I shrugged mentally and paid the cashier.   
  
Storm and Betsy had grabbed us a table and staked it out by putting the shopping on the chairs. Five chairs, gods know how MANY bags. I chuckled under my breath and set the tray down. "Drinks and fries, ladies. Caffeine, sugar and fat."   
  
"Thank you, I think." Betsy inspected the french fries. "Ketchup?"   
  
"Right here, gals." Rogue set her own tray down and smiled. "Y'all find everything?"   
  
As we all settled around the table, Jean arrived and set down her own tray. For a while there was nothing but silence and the occasional request for ketchup, salt, or a napkin. We ate in silence, and my mind roamed over the last few years and further back.   
  
I was born -- if it can be called that -- in the latter part of the 18th century. The first six years of my life are terribly fuzzy, and I've still no idea who my parents/creator/whatever you want to call it were. When I hit six, or thereabouts, a time storm dragged me to the future where I met Meggan Braddock-Askani. And she informed of the whole Chosen One business. I was the backup, in case the Askani'Son failed. I was six at the time, I had no idea what she was talking about.   
  
Six months spent in the future under Apocalypse's rule was enough for me, though. I demanded one day to get sent back to where I belonged. The Mother refused. I threw a huge tantrum and snapped open my mental pathways. I'm embarrassed to remember that I nearly took down the entire Citadel in my rage. It took the Mother knocking me out with the remains of the Phoenix Force to calm me.   
  
Training took over the next period of my life. First, mental, so that I ended up supremely shielded. Then a time storm to give me some sort of normal childhood. With a family of thieves and assassins. Normal. Right.   
  
The next time storm took me to about 1200 AD. I spent the first few months orienting myself and dodging all sorts of institutions. Like religion and rape. And then I ran into this guy with fangs. The bastard had just broken a barmaid's neck and was sucking her blood. I proceeded to kick his ass into the next week and then found myself being approached by an older gentleman. He claimed I was a vampire Slayer. I told him where he could stuff it. Especially when he mentioned more Chosen One crap.   
  
Three weeks later, I was training with the Watcher's Council. Those of us who fight Fate know in the end that it is futile. But the winning is in the fighting. Or some crap like that.   
  
My musings into the past were rudely interrupted by Jean. "So, Marya, who was he?" She gestured at the ring on my left hand. It contained a thin, gold band, inscribed very delicately with a few arcane signals.   
  
The truth was out. They'd never believe it had been my betrothal ring to one of the knights in King Arthur's court. It was the only such ring I'd been able to keep over the years. Although, the Marquis I married in 1787 gave me a lovely garnet in silver one that I still had for those occasions I needed to scare off annoying suitors. 'Oh, yes, this is something my husband bought me recently. Isn't it lovely?'   
  
"An old friend gave it to me." I smiled. "Said it was meant for luck." I knew I was ducking the question, but I was doing it gracefully, and I didn't really want to lie if I could help it.   
  
Jean apparently was realllly curious about the ring. "A friend?" she asked, arching her eyebrow. "Oooo. Do tell."   
  
"His name was Gareth." True. "We thought we were in love, so we decided to get married." I smiled. Also, true. "But we decided it wouldn't work out, so we split." I shrugged. "No loss." Not true and most definitely not true. We had gotten married. And, three months later Gareth went off on a Crusade to find the Holy Grail. I was still doing the whole 'fight Fate' thing at the time, so I didn't go with him. He never returned.   
  
Some of my sudden memory of the loss I'd felt must have shown in my eyes. It was enough for Jean to back off and turn to ask Storm what she'd gotten. I was very glad, as the sudden memories of Gareth had caught me off guard. He'd been my first love and my first lover. He'd been everything kind, gentle, sweet -- well, sort of. Men, in any day and age, tend to be semi-sweet, semi-aggressive, whatever their tendencies.   
  
Gareth had perished the way he'd always wanted -- in battle. And I was left a widow at seventeen. The Queen took me in, seeing as I'd been married to one of her House Knights. The Lady Gwynevere, or however they're spelling it these days, was a lovely woman given to strong passions and irrational hates. We got along quite well, after a few initial run-ins. I joined the castle guard, too.   
  
Almost absently, I got up and helped pick up our trash and bags, disposing of the trash and, almost companionably, chatting with Jean and Ororo. How I got involved in a conversation with them, I'll never know. My mind does weird things to the autonomic functions of my body (which sometimes includes my mouth, unfortunately) when I'm not looking.   
  
We were discussing going dress-shopping. I decided that was a cool idea. After all, I hadn't bought a new dress since I went swing-dancing one evening a few months back with Deadpool. The Merc with a Mouth had been a charming evening companion and we'd been on a job together. Sort of.   
  
"So, we'll hit The Limited, first, then?" Jean looked up at me (I was ever so slightly taller).   
  
"Perfect." I grinned and added mentally, I can have fun muttering about all the teenie-boppers.   
  
To The Limited we trooped, five women on a mission. We made one detour, leaving all of our packages in a locker. Good thing, too...   
  
Flipping through the racks while trying to ignore the little salesgirls in their oh-so-hip tiny little outfits gave me enough energy to try on three dresses. Rogue found this lovely little green number and didn't even bother trying it on.   
  
"It's mah size, sugah." She told me gleefully, looking over my shoulder. "Heah. Try that one."   
  
She was pointing at a gorgeous fuschia monstrosity. I was half-torn between fear and laughter. "I'll add it to the stack."   
  
Unfortunately, none of the dresses I found there suited me. We headed out after a brief consultation, to the nearby Lord and Taylor.   
  
It was while we were there that something happened to Jean. I'm not sure what it was, it just felt like a psychic disturbance, on the periphery of my shields. Whatever it was, it felt oily and cold, and vaguely familiar. Jean herself didn't say anything about it, but as we left the mall later that evening, purchases and dresses in hand, I wondered. Would she tell Scott and Xavier about it?   
  
---  
End Chapter One   
  
=====  
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'  
__________________________________________________  
  
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga 


	2. Ferret Dreams

Disclaimer thingie: Marvel owns the X-Men and all of their relatives. BBC/Lionheart own Doctor Who and Ms. Sam-Jones. Highlander is, iirc, owned by Rysher Entertainment. Buffy is owned by Joss Whedon (all hail the Master) and Fox/WB.   
Marya, otoh, is mine. Borrow her without asking and I'll have my lackeys get medieval on your roody-poo candy ass.   
  
PG13/R for swearing and some nastiness.   
Author's notes: I've been tricked into rewriting a ton of X-history, so bear with me.   
  
Dedication: To Lynxie, because she's half-co-plotter, or something. And because she wouldn't let me stop writing -.- To Acetal for betaing this monster, it ain't over yet, bub. To KayJay and Mitai and Alicia for the origin of the crazy idea. And to Tapestry for helping Lynxie kick me and get it finished.   
  
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga, 2  
Ferret Dreams  
by Suzy DeZorga  
  
It is without a doubt a fact that life is fun. Hell, when they say that life is for the living, they're right. The vampire in front of me didn't agree, apparently. His victim, a young girl in her teens, lay on the ground, dead. Drained of her life's blood so that he could live. If living as a demon-possessed body was living. "Bastard," I hissed softly, stepping into the alley and closer to him.   
  
He looked at me for a moment, then smiled and bared his blood-caked fangs. "Victim."   
  
"Not," I said calmly, straightening as a blonde fury appeared behind him, stake in hand. He didn't even hear her as the stake slid into his chest. Dying with that sort of "Oh, shit" look is common among vampires as they dissolve into a pile of dust.   
  
I ignored the pile as I knelt next to the body of the girl. She couldn't have been more than fifteen. "All that wasted potential," I whispered, my mind for a moment feeling the full horror of it. "I'm sorry."   
  
"Toaster-caked him! Yes!" The Slayer cheered from above me. "Chalk one more up for the Slayer."   
  
She said it so swaggeringly, so naively. As if the title itself was her protection and she would never die. I stood swiftly and snorted. "Yeah. One more vamp killed. Too bad we can't borrow his life-energy to revive this little girl." I looked down at the body and sighed. "Let's get out of here before the cops decide we did it."   
  
Buffy Summers, resident Slayer of Sunnydale blinked at me. "Morbid and depressed-sounding, much."   
  
"Whatever," I sighed. Buffy and her father were in New York for the Christmas holidays. Apparently, his new girlfriend's family was there. I grimaced. Unfortunately, Buffy HATED being away from Sunnydale and her duties there. So she trivialised it all and tried not to think about it.   
  
As we walked away from the scene, I thought about what could have happened if Buffy's father hadn't gotten hotel rooms with sealed windows. We might have been earlier. We might have been in time. I closed my eyes and turned back. "Go in peace," I whispered softly. And we went on in silence for a time.   
  
"I'm sorry," Buffy said abruptly, as we exited the street and slipped into another. "It's just, things with dad, and I'm--" She looked down for a moment, then blinked, "Vampire."   
  
I didn't take that to mean she was a vampire. I took it as it was meant and silently melted backwards, waiting. Buffy had perfected the 'lost and alone little girl' trick ages ago. She pulled it off well as four vamps came strolling around the corner ahead of us. I could almost here her muttering, "Oh no, whatever shall I dooo?" in a squeaky falsetto.   
  
The vamps spotted her and halted for a second, then chuckled as one and sauntered towards her. She waited till the last minute, then looked at them startled. "Hello, I'm kind of lost. Do you think you could tell me where Fifth and Monroe is?"   
  
"Oh, sure we can, little girl." They swiftly surrounded her. "But, first, we'll take our--" They all shifted into the demon-feeding-face, "payment."   
  
"Do you take stake credit?"   
  
"What?" The one that asked that died before he had an answer to that question. Although the death was an answer in and of itself. The other three quickly dove in, two grabbing Buffy's arms and attempting to hold her as the third leaned in for the kill. He stopped abruptly, his face paling. Slowly, he folded.   
  
"I've always wanted to try that," Buffy noted, as she slammed a foot into his face and began twisting away from the other two.   
  
"I thought you had?" I asked, staking the one on the right.   
  
She staked the one on her left, then reflexively snapkicked the one moaning on the ground. "True. But it's always fun to recheck your data."   
  
"Ah, yes," I grinned, as she dropped down and staked the last one. "Now, where were we?"   
  
"I was just about to ask how your new gig was going," she replied, standing and dusting off her hands.   
  
I let her change the subject. "Not too bad. Par normal, everyone's very wary of me." I grinned at her.   
  
"Yeah, well, you're not the easiest person to get a handle on, Ms I'm an ex-Slayer, and I've been alive for a thousand years," Buffy smiled. "You're good, though. What else?"   
  
"Well, I'm hoping they'll get to liking me, maybe," I said with irony. "After I save a few lives they'll decide I'm good people."   
  
"Ya think?" she snickered. "So, who is he?"   
  
"What? Who is who?" I tried for innocence. It didn't work.   
  
"Who is he. There is a he in all of this, I can tell. Men just have this... pull." She flashed a look at me as we wandered down another street. "And it's not always a good one, either."   
  
I almost asked her why she had that saddened look, then decided listening to her complain about Angel again wouldn't do me any good. Sometimes, I wanted to hit the two of them over the head very badly. "His name's Scott."   
  
"Scott?" she asked, teasingly. "Sounds pretty nice. Stable guy?"   
  
"Yeah." I grinned and scampered ahead a bit so I could look at her face. "Scott Summers, aka Cyclops of the X-Men."   
  
Her jaw dropped. "You're JOKING."   
  
"Nope. He's apparently got this thing going with Jean Grey, but," I shrugged. "I don't see that happening, and, apparently, she left him at the altar, then he took her back, later."   
  
"Screwy." She frowned and glared at me. "You realise that you're now topping me in the twisty-angst spot?"   
  
"Yessss." I drew out the 's' grinning evilly. "Besides, you don't deserve that angst spot. It should be mine by right," I declaimed sententiously.   
  
"Oh, stuff it." She snickered. "So, other than the guy with my last name, other troubles are?"   
  
"Jean."   
  
"The X-fiance."   
  
I coughed. "Sort of. The engagement's back on, wedding date unset."   
  
"Ahhh, so, you still have a chance." Buffy looked up at the street sign and checked her watch. "Either kill her, or get her to leave the team."   
  
"Neither." I shook my head as we headed back in the direction of the Hyatt. "Actually, I'm more nervous about the entire X-Clan descending on us for Christmas."   
  
"All of them? Shouldn't that be, like, bad? I mean the saturation of such pure hero-ness ought to implode, or something."   
  
I laughed, my voice sounding odd in the quiet of the street. Relatively quiet, since there were cars zooming around somewhere nearby. "Yeah, right."   
  
"Anyway, what is it they always say when you're in front of a large audience?" Buffy looked up at the hotel in front of us and sighed. "Just imagine them all in their underwear."   
  
"Oh, thanks. Appealing thought, much." I reached out and impulsively hugged her. "Take care, kiddo. Yell for me again, if you want, I don't get enough excercise. Yet."   
  
She hugged back and smiled tiredly. "I will. You take care, lady, you hear?"   
  
"Do I ever not?" I didn't wait for her to answer that, the momentary flash of memory in her eyes more than enough for me. Hell, *I* didn't want to remember it. "I'm gone, blondie."   
  
"See ya, rainbow." And she was gone, flittering into the huge building and disappearing into a shimmering reflection as it swallowed her up.   
  
I swallowed the memories of our first meeting and turned back into the night. A good idea was getting to bed before 6 AM. Apparently, that was the mandatory training hour at the Mansion. And I'd been allowed to sleep through my first two.   
  
----   
  
Blood. Red, thick, viscous, it surrounded me, pulling me under, trying to fill my mouth as I fought not to scream, to give in. There was a flash and it shifted, becoming lava, hot, burning. Fire.   
  
Sound. A child's scream rang out somewhere near me. NO! My mind screamed. Children. Dying. All around me, consumed. Flames licked at my arms, face, hair. I smelled the skin on my bare feet burning off as I walked across a tin roof.   
  
Pain. It slammed into me, knocking me over, I was falling. Down, down to happy land, where they would do things to my teeth and let gerbils talk to my toes.   
  
An alarm rang out. Fire engine, I thought muzzily, then woke. It's annoying as hell to be able to jerk awake like that. You'd think being as elderly as I felt sometimes I'd be able to wake more gradually. No such luck. The room around me spun for a moment, then stopped. The clock radio on my right blared out some morning news program. Irritating me, since the announcer sounded not at all upset that five thousand people had just died in a flood in Guatemala.   
  
I was tired, the clock found itself smashed against the wall with a light burst of TK.   
  
"Oops," I mumbled, reaching up and rubbing my eyes as I slowly lurched vertical. I vaguely recalled setting the alarm as I staggered back through the window about three that morning. It was now 5:45. I am not at my best on three hours of sleep. Someone would hurt for this. Very. Badly.   
  
----   
  
Two hours later, I was regretting that mental promise, as poor Bobby Drake gamely tried to not flinch around me. I'd accidentally broken his arm when he tried to hug me during that morning's training session. One thing the team had now learned about me; DON'T sneak up behind me in a combat situation, when it's everyone against me. Okay, so I shouldn't have grabbed and twisted. But I had a bit of a good excuse.   
  
Being tired sends me immediately into a combat-readiness state. I've become so ingrained to fighting, that not fighting is more difficult. Plus, add in the nervousness about everything, and you have a mondo recipe for disaster. The state I settle into has only three of the lower functions; dodge, parry, attack.   
  
The excercise had been a work in frustration-release for me. People I could beat on and not get in trouble for. Of course, I should have shaken off the battle fugue before breaking Bobby's arm. I felt terribly guilty about that. Guilty enough that I was considering breaking one of my own rules and Healing it.   
  
Everyone against the Newbie was how the excercise was played. I was nice and let them win. After much hassle, of course. They took me down with a fairly good combination, actually. I'd felt nearly proud, as if I'd trained them myself. Cyclops and Braddock. With me dodging in and out of the trees they'd so thoughtfully provided, Braddock and Scott went into a two-pronged attack. One fighting me physically, the other blasting at me. Pretty effective, really. It forced me out of the trees where a take-down was much easier. And came fast.   
  
Reflecting on the fight brought me back to gazing at Bobby as he accidentally banged his arm on the counter. I winced with him and gave in. "Bobby?"   
  
He flinched and tried to smile at me, "Are you going to break my other arm?"   
  
"Actually, no." I smiled placatingly. "I'm going to try to fix the broken one."   
  
He blinked at me. Around us, the kitchen abruptly stilled. Being the center of attention has never bothered me. I flashed a dry smile at everyone and gestured to a chair. "Sit down, love, this may take a bit."   
  
He sat tentatively and looked at me as I dragged a chair closer to him and sat, too. "What are you going to do."   
  
"Well," I nervously shoved a hank of the annoying rainbow hair out of my eyes. "I'm going to try something I haven't tried in a while. Just -- give me a moment, okay?"   
  
I didn't wait for him to answer, just gently laid a hand on his shoulder and closed my eyes. The light trance I dropped into pulled open the energies I had stored and began preparing me. I opened my inner eyes, the ones that could actually look *through* people and stared at his arm. It was a clean break, I'd done that right, at least. Tendrils of energy coalesced around the hand on his shoulder and gently began seeping into his arm.   
  
Bobby stiffened. I didn't blame him, the healing energies tingle. They spread downwards and found the break, which looked like an ugly red line. For an instant they glowed with the same red, then they melted into the crack, filling it over and bubbling. A flash of light and the bone reknit itself back together.   
  
For an instant, I felt light-headed, the energy expended having drained my reserves some. Then the world reset itself and I pulled out of the trance. I gasped in, released the breath and drew in another and opened my eyes. Bobby was staring at me, his gaze a bit surprised. He looked down at his arm, then back up at me.   
  
"Wow. That was...That felt really wierd."   
  
"I'm sure," I shifted, wincing as my body protested the use of the energy by tensing muscles up and down my back, "it did. I can tell you it still feels very strange from this side, too."   
  
"What did you do?" Scott leaned against the counter near us and crossed his arms.   
  
It was the pose I'm sure had been dubbed the 'Picard Leader Pose' or something similar. I shrugged, "Simplest explanation? Healed him." I leaned back in the chair and winced, trying to stretch. "If you want a more detailed one, can it wait until I've eaten? Healing always makes me famished."   
  
They left it at that, even though I could tell they wanted to know more. As everyone returned to the business of creating and then eating breakfast, I watched them. They were intrigued by me, worried by me, and, in a few cases, tolerating me like normal.   
  
Breakfast was shaping up wonderfully, and I even decided to pitch in. In the interests of making it cook and be prepared faster. I'm a splendid cook, if I do say so myself. Pancakes being a specialty. I can make them from scratch anywhere -- even over an open campfire in the middle of a campaign. I once made some in 1582 while running errands for a local Baron in the Netherlands. Not that it was the Netherlands, then. It was a collection of tiny little patchwork kingdoms and dukedoms.   
  
Adria was the main country's title, but the was the little Barony of Aurverelle, on the edge of the lovely and dense Malvern forest. It was there I met a group of what history will call witches and heathens, but what I'd definitely call Elves. Not that it matters, they're gone now. Hunted unto the last and all burnt at the stake. A few were tortured in the name of the Inquisition.   
  
Jean was upset. It hit me, suddenly, as I handed her the spatula and went to help set the table. Not visibly, but resonating on some plain that I could feel. I nearly hit myself when I realised. She was resonating on the psychic plain, which had been disturbed for *months*. Which meant that she was projecting the worry and fear there, and keeping herself tightly shielded from the rest of us. Even, I suspected, the Professor.   
  
I'd felt it by touch -- my hand to hers. Flesh always deepened emotional projection. Dodging around Remy as I laid out the spoons, I decided not to ask. Not yet, anyway.   
  
"Hey, Suzy, catch."   
  
"What?" I looked up just in time to snap a hand up and catch the orange Logan had tossed. "Thanks," I said, dryly. "I've always liked getting oranges in the face for breakfast."   
  
He chuckled and tossed one to Remy, then to Scott. "Suzy, you always were a whiner about breakfast."   
  
"I hate mornings, dearie, remember?" I snorted and began peeling the orange as Jean brought a platter of pancakes to the table. Bobby, Scott and Remy had fetched the condiments, including the blueberry syrup.   
  
"Ah, t'ank you, chere." Remy smiled sweetly at me as I passed him the aforementioned syrup. Bobby had set it next to my plate, instead of Remy's.   
  
The rest of the X-Men sat, some stiffly, some flopping. All hungry, by the way they began passing the platters of food and pitchers of coffee. Bishop had one whole pot of coffee all to himself, and tended to growl softly if it was taken away. I refrained from TKing it down to me, since I adored coffee.   
  
Betsy sat to my right, Warren next to her. His wings were carefully set over the back of his chair, all fluffy and white. I'd nearly asked how he got them a bit ago, then decided not to. Reaching for my mug, I stopped and frowned at it. There was a suspiciously frosty look to the outside, and the contents were no longer steaming. In fact, when I picked it up, the contents didn't even slosh.   
  
My eyebrow shot up and I glanced at Bobby. "Pancakes being frozen, I can understand, but coffee? 's the drink of the gods, mate. That's like poisoning the world's chocolate supply."   
  
"And that would be bad?" Bishop looked dark and brooding and unhumourous.   
  
"Yes." I raised an eyebrow at Betsy. "What would you do if there was no chocolate left in the world?"   
  
"Well," She took a swallow from her unfrozen coffee and leaned back in her chair. "I think I'd have to find the person and torture them. Slowly."   
  
"Indeed." Ororo nodded regally, having scorned the pancakes in favour of a grapefruit and some cottage cheese. "A dearth of chocolate would require great fortitude."   
  
"In women, anyway," Bobby said with a grin. "Considering it--"   
  
"Hush, Bobby." Jean gave him a minatory glare.   
  
I chuckled and finished his statement. "Because in women it produces the same hormone that causes sexual orgasm?"   
  
There were gasps and chuckles around the table and we all went on to other things. Like actually finishing our breakfast.   
  
The other X-Teams were due to arrive later that day and the next day. I was looking forward to it. Sort of. As I'd told Buffy, it made me nervous. I can handle a large crowd. But only when they're mindless sheep. Given what I'd seen of Xavier's so far, the X-ers were anything but.   
  
---   
  
The prospect of seeing all these new people on my lack of sleep nearly made me cry. Not. It made me worry I'd be short-tempered, which on top of the other worries made me a bit sarcastic.   
  
"So, Marya, would you like a tour of the Mansion?"   
  
"Again?"   
  
Bobby blinked at me and shrugged. "Well, at least something must be better than staring at that computer screen all day."   
  
In point of fact, I was boredly playing FreeCell. An excuse to get up and do something that might occupy me was welcome. I sighed and stood, stretching. "Sorry, Bobby. I'm just a bit tired."   
  
"Not a morning person."   
  
"Nope." I grinned ruefully. "In fact, I tend to stay away from mornings as often as possible."   
  
"You sound like Cable. The man can't even eat until he's had three pots of coffee in the morning." With that, he turned and began leading the way around the Mansion.   
  
I didn't tell him I'd known that.   
  
"...And, this is the foyer, where we first met you." Bobby grinned at me. "And here I thought you were an insurance salesman."   
  
"Salesman?" I glared at him in mock-horror. "I'd die before I stooped so low. Which," I admitted dryly, "is the point of insurance, isn't it?"   
  
He laughed.   
  
I laughed with him, then stiffened. The feelers I'd gently laid about the Mansion as an early mental warning system were tingling. Someone was out there.   
  
The doorbell rang before I could deepen the contact to decide on whether they were hostile or not.   
  
"Maybe this is our insurance salesman?" Bobby quipped, as he stepped to the door.   
  
"Yeah, maybe," I muttered, cracking a smile as he opened it to reveal several teenagers, a hulking silver-haired man and a slim dark-haired woman.   
  
"Ah, Cable, kids, Domino, welcome back to the Mansion," Drake gestured, and backed away from the door.   
  
They filed in, the blonde girl in the lead snapping her gum as she looked at me. "So, who are ya?"   
  
"The new girl," I said dryly, restraining myself from spewing out my full name, including titles.   
  
She shrugged. "Uhuh. I'm Tabitha."   
  
"Now, Tabby, don't be so rude." The redhaired young woman behind Tabby smiled wearily at me. "I'm sorry for tha'. I'm Theresa Cassidy." She held out a hand.   
  
I shook it and grinned. "Really, it's okay. And It's Marya DeZorga. Call me Marya, though."   
  
The rest of the team came to surround me, curious. One young man glowed a dark black, almost shining with an oily sheen. I guessed it had to do with his mutation. I hadn't thought about doing homework on X-Force, even though I should have.   
  
I looked over their shoulders and raised an eyebrow at the dark-haired woman. "Dom."   
  
"Dez." She nodded at me and turned to the man next to her. "Nate, I really think the kids need better manners. Standing there gawking can't be good for their first impressions."   
  
I laughed and turned to the dark man I'd noticed and held out my hand. "Marya."   
  
"Roberto DaCosta." He nodded to me and ignored the hand.   
  
Rolling my eyes and repressing a sigh, I grinned at the strawberry-blond one next. His hair was fantastic looking, longer than my legs, it cascaded down his back in a flowing tail. If the swords he was sporting were anything to go by, it was a bitch to fight in, too. A star-shaped tattoo decorated his left eye.   
  
"Shatterstar." He shook my hand and looked to his left where a young Latino man stood. "This is the correct way to greet a lady, yes?"   
  
I saw the mischief in his companion's eyes before he turned to me and replied, "No, 'Star, this is." He reached for my hand and turned it over, gazing deeply into my eyes. I stifled a snicker and waited. "Hallo, Senorita Marya, I'm enchanted to meet you. My name is--"   
  
"Inigo Montoya?" I interjected dryly, unable to resist.   
  
His female companions and even DaCosta, chortled at the shock on his face. He recovered quickly, though. "No, actually, it's Ricter." He completed his greeting by leaning over and kissing the back of my hand.   
  
"Oh, so receiving laughter is the best way to greet a lady?" Shatterstar nodded. "I shall endeavor to remember that."   
  
I coughed and looked at the young man, expecting to see cajolery. And then realised he was serious. "Actually, 'Star -- may I call you that?" He nodded. "Anyway, actually, laughter is not the object." I glanced around and spotted Bobby, looking amused. "Here. I shall demonstrate."   
  
Quickly, I slipped out of the semi-circle and approached Bobby. I reached out my hand to him, "Hello, sir." My voice had deepened slightly. He blinked and accepted my hand. I turned his over in my hands. "I'm Marya," I drew out the syllables a little breathily then bent over, still keeping eye contact and kissed the back of his hand. I let my lips linger ever so slightly, then straightened and slowly stepped back. I let his hand slip out of mine ever so gently.   
  
There was a moment of silence and then Bobby laughed. The others followed suit. Dom slid over next to me and snickered. "You haven't lost your touch, have you, Dez?"   
  
"No," I answered her, out of the side of my mouth. "I haven't."   
  
She snorted. "Well, wipe the self-satisfied smirk off your face."   
  
"Yes, ma'am."   
  
"Susanna, you don't do meek well," a voice commented dryly from behind me.   
  
I turned and grinned impishly up at Cable. "Aw, Naaaate. I don't?" Dom and I were the only ones, to my knowledge (except Logan on rare occasions) who could get away with calling the man in front of me Nate. He hated the name, and much preferred being called Cable.   
  
---   
  
It wasn't until later that afternoon, with X-Force all settled in (surprise, surprise) their old rooms, that I got to actually sit down and chat companionably with Dom and Nate.   
  
"So, how'd you get roped into this?" Dom tossed a can of Guinness at me. I caught it and popped the top, then shrugged. "Oh, c'mon, Dez, you never let yourself get on a team before."   
  
Nate snorted and opened the beer Dom handed him. "Hell, that's why you never joined up with us in the Six Pack." He winced, suddenly. Old pain about some of those events, I guessed.   
  
"Well," I said, drawling slightly. "Ya see, Fury, he has a few of them thar prognosticator-types on his crew." I stopped and sipped from the can, wincing at the lack of fresh flavour. "Something big is coming."   
  
"Have you told Xavier?" Dom raised an eyebrow when I shook my head and frowned at me. "Why not?"   
  
"Need to know. Sorta."   
  
"Which means, Fury doesn't trust Xavier." Nate supplied dryly.   
  
I checked the mental wards on the room and then nodded. "Exactly." I stood and began pacing in the small room. Oddly enough, since the excuse I'd given was to be Xavier's bodyguard. But no one else needed to know that. "I don't think he even wanted to trust me. And he hasn't warned anyone else either."   
  
"Big fucking mistake," Dom noted. "Without anyone prepared--"   
  
"Whatever it is will shatter the defenses we have." Nate looked at Dom, then back at me, his eyes serious. "I'm going to tell the kids."   
  
"Go ahead. I'm systematically going to tell the team -- Logan already knows." We'd had a chat the first night I'd gone patrolling in New York.   
  
Creeping out of the Mansion grounds had been simple. On my way back, I was followed. I knew who it was, and why he was doing it. After all, I'd known him for longer than he thought I had. For a moment I felt sorrow that it wasn't my place to tell him the truth.   
  
I shook that thought off and waited when I reached the base of the room just below my window. "Suzy."   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"Do you have a death wish?"   
  
"No, not really. I've never been one for my own death. Wishing death on others, yes."   
  
He snorted and stepped into the moonlight. "There a reason--" he paused and sniffed, stepping closer to me. "Vamps."   
  
"Yep. The new Slayer's in town. Thought I'd pop in and help some."   
  
"Long way to New York from here."   
  
A ghost of a smile crossed my lips, "I've got a fast cycle."   
  
He grunted and lit a cigar, and, shock of all shocks, leaned against the side of the house next to me.   
  
"Lovely stars up there." I wasn't looking at them.   
  
"Probably," he grunted.   
  
"So, what's with the nose?" It was something I'd noticed, the first time I'd seen him again, but, so far, I'd fought my curiosity. Or was it rampant gossipyness?   
  
"I've gone feral."   
  
A statement of fact, and it covered a world of meaning. I sighed. "Any way to fix it?"   
  
"Not really."   
  
"The nose is bloody annoying to look at, you know. Might wanna see a plastic surgeon about it."   
  
"Tried dyeing your hair lately?"   
  
My hair will always be a sore point. It sucks to try and go undercover with hair that can be recognised from low Earth orbit. "Can I go to bed now?"   
  
"Any idea why there's such a prevalent vamp population in New York?"   
  
"It's New York, you have to ask?"   
  
"Go to bed, Suzy."   
  
"Yes, Dad." I turned and jumped up, catching the bottom lip of my windowsill. A little TK and I was up and through the open window. I was asleep a few minutes later.   
  
---   
  
To some, I was Susanna DeZorga. To others, I was her sister, Marya DeZorga. To a very few, Louisa. Three names are useful in my line of work. Infiltration at its easiest, especially when you're used to being called by any of them.   
  
As these thoughts flitted through my brain, I hacked the Mansion's computer system. It was a thoroughly protected system, but nothing had ever been able to keep me out for long. Apparently, the latent memories of the programmers get stored in the programs in some way. I've never understood that part, I just know it works. Because I can read the memories and that's how I knew exactly that the last time Kitty Pryde had put a lockout on the systems, she'd used 'chocolate' as the keyword to the password encryption.   
  
Pryde, according to the file I pulled up, was currently a member of the British team, Excalibur. the young girl -- all of nineteen -- was capable of altering her molecular state to walk through walls. It sounded like a fun thing to do. I'd have to try it some time when really awake and well-rested energy-wise.  
  
There were other bios and dossiers, including one that made me grin even more devilishly than I had in a while. But that would wait for later. Now I knew who I could trust.   
  
---   
  
"Braddock?"   
  
The lovely ninja looked up at me, eyes neutral once again. "Yes?"   
  
"Had any dreams lately?"   
  
She blinked, the question startling her from her composure for a moment, then it reappeared. "Yes."   
  
I leaned against the wall of the Danger Room, which was currently in the shape of a Dojo. Prying delicately wasn't my strong suit. I was much more the torture type. I sighed and dove in. "Have they been...frightening?"   
  
Betsy bent over, her purple hair scattering around her face, and stretched languidly. When she straightened she was looking at me with that same neutral expression, but with a spark of curiosity underneath. For an instant, the red slash over her eye seemed to glow. I shook my head, and it stopped.   
  
"I've had frightening dreams for every night of my existence since I took the Crimson Dawn."   
  
So matter of fact and calm. I marveled at her for a moment, then nodded and turned to go. "Thank you."   
  
"Wait."  
  
"Yes?" I looked at her. She looked back at me, then shuddered.   
  
"For about the last week, I've had dreams...of blood and death and fire -- children screaming." She shook her head, her eyes darkening with distress. "These are all different -- usually they're about darkness and the Crimson Dawn."  
  
"Children and fire," I whispered. I had a sudden flash to smashing my alarm that morning. Right after waking out of the living nightmare of children perishing in a fire. I closed my eyes and opened them again to find her staring at me intently.  
  
"What do you know?"   
  
"I..." I turned away and started pacing, reaching tendrils of energy out, deadening recording sensors, walls, everything so nothing said or thought would leave the room. "I'm not quite sure." I turned to face her and continued, "I was sent by Fury to watch over you, prepare the X-Men for -- something. He's not sure what."   
  
"Sounds wonderfully vague," she noted dryly, crossing her arms over her chest and straightening. "What does it have to do with my dreams?"   
  
"I had the same one this morning." Every Slayer has minor precognitive abilities. In my case, you combined those with my natural telepathy, and you had someone tapped into the way the world worked. Which sounds horribly pretentious.   
  
Did our dreams have a meaning? I wasn't sure, but I was betting that I was going to find out soon. Dreams are always supposed to mean things.   
  
I once dreamt I was a ferret. It was the strangest thing, seeing the world in the strange planes and colours that came with ferret eyes. Crawling through mazes of duct work and chattering with the mice, that's how I spent the night. When I awoke, I discovered a ferret living in the aparment under mine. Telepathy does work on animal minds. Just at a more basic level.  
  
---  
End Chapter Two   
  
=====  
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'  
  
__________________________________________________  
  
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga 


	3. Welcome to the Jungle

Disclaimer thingie: Marvel owns the X-Men and all of their relatives. BBC/Lionheart own Doctor Who and Ms. Sam-Jones. Highlander is, iirc, owned by Rysher Entertainment. Buffy is owned by Joss Whedon (all hail the Master) and Fox/WB.   
Marya, otoh, is mine. Borrow her without asking and I'll have my lackeys get medieval on your roody-poo candy ass.   
  
Also, this is one of those "Guess the Author" challenges. So far, only ONE person has attempted it.   
  
PG13/R for swearing and some nastiness.   
Author's notes: I've been tricked into rewriting a ton of X-history, so bear with me.   
  
Dedication: To Lynxie, because she's half-co-plotter, or something. And because she wouldn't let me stop writing -.- To Acetal for betaing this monster, it ain't over yet, bub. To KayJay and Mitai and Alicia for the origin of the crazy idea. And to Tapestry for helping Lynxie kick me and get it finished.   
  
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga, 3  
Welcome to the Jungle  
by Suzy DeZorga  
  
It was later that evening when the people of X-Factor arrived. Lorna Dane in the lead, her green hair escaping any attempts to tame it down -- even at the short length it now sported. The other members, Forge, Wild Child, Sabretooth -- the one I raised an eyebrow at -- Val Cooper, and one I recognised and knew. My face split into a grin.   
  
An evil grin, as I suddenly thought of something to do that would be fun. For me. I moved swiftly to accomplish my task.   
  
Raven had time to only turn and open her mouth in shock before I pounced her, wrapping my arms about her and giggling as I screeched in her ear. "RAVEN!!!!"   
  
"Mare, you will SO pay for this," she hissed, wincing as her eardrums protested.   
  
"This IS payment," I whispered back, chuckling evilly.   
  
"You bitch." Raven hugged me back, though. She obviously remembered what it was for. I wasn't going to remind her, though. Not with pure as the driven snow Grey around.   
  
I released her and stepped back, grinning. "Glad to see Satan still hasn't a consort."   
  
"I thought the man was polygamous and you'd be there keeping him company already," she replied dryly, reaching up to push her hair off her face.   
  
"You know Mystique?" Jean Grey, in all her redheadedness, was staring at me in shock. Apparently my just knowing her was enough for Grey.   
  
"I've known Raven for..." I tried to remember how long it'd been.   
  
"Too long." Raven inserted, placing her blue hands on her mini-skirt clad hips. "Why?"   
  
"No reason." In an instant, Jean's whole demeanor changed and she was sweetly condescending. "I guess you're here to reconnect with your daughter, Rogue."   
  
"Actually, no. I got dragged here against my will." Raven glared at Forge, who was chatting with Bishop. Weapons, I think, from what I could catch from the conversation.   
  
"Oh? This from the woman who refused to get dragged to a club on her birthday -- we will not mention which one, but it was in the upper digits."   
  
She glared at me and mumbled something under her breath.   
  
I snickered. "What? Didn't quite hear that."   
  
"Losing your hearing, dear? I hear it's one of the onsets of old age."   
  
"Oh, piss off, Raven," I muttered, grinning.   
  
"Not yet," she smiled sweetly at me, "I'm staying 'till Christmas."   
  
"I see you brought the kitty cat," I noted dryly, as Victor moved into my line of sight.   
  
"Unfortunately. Bastard needs to be in a cage."   
  
I pondered for a moment, then snickered again. "We could put him in one." I blinked, realising suddenly that Grey was still watching us with a disapproving look in her eyes. "Can I help you, Jean?" I asked politely.   
  
She narrowed her eyes. "I'm on to you, DeZorga."   
  
"On to me?" I blinked and refrained from looking at Raven. It would be very bad if we both laughed our asses off at Jean.   
  
"Yes," she hissed, then whirled away and stalked off.   
  
Lorna took her place. "Hello." She cocked her head at me, eyes neutral. "And you are?"   
  
"Marya DeZorga. Joined about five days ago. All this," I gestured at the chatting X-Family, "is making me a little nervous."   
  
"Ah." She glanced at Raven, then me, then held her hand out. As we shook, I could see her fighting her curiosity. It won. "So, you two know each other?"   
  
"Well, not in the Biblical sense," I replied.   
  
She coughed, her eyes twinkling as Raven snorted. "I think you're going to do just fine." Dane glanced at where Jean was arguing with Scot. "Although, Jean appears to have taken you in extreme dislike."   
  
"Caught that, eh?"   
  
"Marya, it's not as if she hides it," Raven noted.   
  
Lorna nodded in agreement and turned towards the rest of X-Factor. "C'mon, I'll introduce you."   
  
---   
  
To say the least, the other X-Men were NOT happy to have Sabes around. My solution of chopping off both his heads and freeze-drying the rest was met with horrified looks and 'we can't kill!' disclaimers. Val claimed that she had to bring him with her. After all, he was her charge and so she had to look after him.   
  
"Bullshit." I stood and began pacing. Xavier's study was very crowded at the moment, with three-quarters of the X-Crowd in there, and the other quarter out watching Creed. "You could very easily have left him in a holding cell, Cooper."   
  
"And have him taken away from me? DeZorga, there are portions of the government that want to experiment on him -- healing factor and all."   
  
"And you couldn't let them?" Raven sounded bored. I knew better.   
  
"Cooper, you're frigging nuts. This," I gestured, nearly hitting someone – I glanced mentally; Bobby -- in the head, "is Christmas."   
  
"He's controlled. He can't hurt anyone--"   
  
I cut her off, anger finally spilling out. "Not good enough, VAL. I've seen some of his work."   
  
"You have?" She sounded surprised. Guess ol' Val forgot how large a radius the circle I moved in was.   
  
"Yes." I stopped pacing and turned to the door. "And so help me, I'm not letting him do anything like that again."   
  
I was halfway down the hall to the foyer before any of them caught up with me. Cooper in the lead, of course. Raven was right behind her though.   
  
"DeZorga, what the hell are you doing?"   
  
"Making sure he can't hurt anyone." The foyer loomed into sight, a small group of X-ers sitting around a tall, golden-haired figure.   
  
Sabes raised his head and looked at me. "Hallo, Louisa."   
  
He didn't get time to say more. My power lashed out, catching his mind like a fly in amber. Ruthlessly, I ignored the pain I was producing in him and began.   
  
Rerouting the mental pathways is a chancy business at best. Not that I cared, I certainly wouldn't cry if Creed ended up brain-damaged. Might make it easier to get everyone agree to euthanising him. But I was after specific pathways. For an instant, I still saw the foyer, then my knees folded and I saw nothing but the pulsing, living framework of a human brain.   
  
A combination of telepathy, healing and telekinesis provided my tools and I began finding and reworking, melding the pathways of aggression and anger, rage and hatred in Creed's brain. I found the pain and pleasure centers and skewed them to apathy. Time had slowed, letting me weave and dart through his mind like a lightning bug without any intervention from the other telepaths.   
  
Distantly, I could hear Creed screaming, feel his pain. I didn't care. I'd seen his work, he deserved this and much worse. One last stitch, then I pulled back slightly to inspect my work. It wasn't permanent, I knew that. His healing factor would slowly unravel it all. But it would do. For now.   
  
Time snapped back into place and I gasped, doubling over in sympathetic empathic pain. Shields...A set of shields snapped closed around me, cutting off Creed's pain.   
  
"Thank you, Betsy," I croaked out, slowly relaxing. Rule one when messing with someone's mind: don't forget your shields. Rule two: if you forget your shields, make sure there's another telepath about. Rule three: if you forgot one and two, you're fucked.   
  
The English telepath in an Asiatic ninja body snorted from behind me. "You're welcome."   
  
Slowly I straightened, still on my knees, but not doubled over. I reached out and reset my shields, getting rid of any residual phantom pain and the slight under-chatter of everyone's minds. Even Betsy's shields weren't strong enough for me. I closed my eyes and visualised them. They glowed a vibrant reddish purple around me. Under them were my own, a green network with silver tracery on top of deep blue.   
  
Opening my eyes again, I stared at Creed. He lay on his side, curled into a ball whimpering softly. I wasn't in any mood to care how much pain he was in. "Could someone give me a hand?"   
  
Raven silently extended hers. Apparently, I had acquired Raven, Betsy and – I raised an eyebrow in surprise -- Lorna as protectors from the rest of the X-family. The three were bracketing me, keeping anyone from stopping me. I caught Raven's hand and slowly pulled myself up to stand, wavering. I shook my head and the world steadied a bit. "Thanks."   
  
"Can I have my hand back?"   
  
"Oh. Yeah." I released it. "What? None of you seen Creed in pain before?" I turned and looked at the Professor. "End problem."   
  
---   
  
I sat cross-legged on my made up bed and pondered dinner. It was not going to be a fun affair, I knew that. After all, with the large number of people, it was going to be crowded. And loud, noisy, etc. and I was not looking forward to fielding more questions on what I'd done to the now docile Creed.   
  
'If they don't understand it the first time, let it go,' one of my old teachers had once said. He was right.   
  
"Most humans are irrepressibly stupid."   
  
"Uhuh. And I'm one of the exceptions, right?"   
  
He reached up and scratched his sandy curls before shrugging his shoulders in the multi-coloured monstrosity he called a jacket. "Yes."   
  
A knock on the door interrupted my musings and I did a quick scan before deciding whether to tell the person to piss off or not.   
  
It was Raven, so I decided to answer the door. "Yes?"   
  
"A bunch of us are going into Westchester for dinner -- Harry's Hideaway, the pub."   
  
"I'll get dressed."   
  
---   
  
If Harry's Hideaway had ambiance, it was of that relaxed sort. The kind where it begs you to come and get drunk off your ass before leaving and getting sick in the parking lot.   
  
Our company was of varied state, with Betsy, Raven and I in the lead. We'd borrowed Xavier's van "hey, dad, can I borrow the car?" flashed through my mind, and I chuckled. We hadn't wrecked it, though. Logan had followed us with Gambit behind him.   
  
The booths were cracked brown vinyl, the tables that old moldy-looking formica. Wood walls with that ingrained smoke look. And the bar. As with any pub-type establishment, there had to be a bar. And there was. A long, cherry-red topped affair. Behind it sat myriad shelves filled with lots of alcohol.   
  
The jukebox was playing some hit from the 70's. I vaguely recognised it as being one of the songs I'd detested a lot during that decade. Disco had only barely been my style. I was much more into black than sequins. Especially red, blue, white and yellow sequins on bright white.   
  
I shook my head to get rid of those memories and looked at Raven. "D'you think we'll all fit in a booth?"   
  
"With this bunch?" Raven snorted. Our bunch consisted of me, Raven, Logan, Gambit, Betsy, Nate, Dom. "We can split into two, though."   
  
"Make the guys sit by themselves?"   
  
"Why not?" Raven grinned and turned to Logan. "You choose a table, wildman."   
  
He mock-growled at her and led the way across the floor to a corner booth and nearby table. With much shifting of chairs and the table, we got the entire group in one spot. I ended up sandwiched between Betsy and Raven.   
  
"So, Rave, what's up with you and Forge?"   
  
"Nothing," Raven said, too quickly.   
  
"Just some latent sexual tension and traded barbs?" Dom interjected, from across the table.   
  
"No." Raven glared balefully at Domino. "We're -- colleagues, of a sort."   
  
"Yeah, just like Nate and I are."   
  
I snickered. "Oh, come now, Dom, you're making him blush." She was, too. He was beginning to get that hunted look. The kind most men get when surrounded by women gossiping. Logan and Remy were sporting that look too, to a lesser extent.   
  
The waitress arrived at that point, saving the boys. For later.   
  
---   
  
"So," Raven said, "who's the new fascination?"   
  
"Me?" I blinked innocently and turned to Betsy. "I'm sorry Warren couldn't come with us."   
  
"I'm not sure if that would have been a good thing, anyway," Braddock replied dryly.   
  
I looked at Harry's and grinned. "Not exactly his scene here, is it?"   
  
"Not really mine, either," Betsy pointed out, her violet eyes glinting with amusement.   
  
"Braddock's much more the Ivy League Olive Garden type," Raven sardonically noted.   
  
"Olive Garden?" Dom brightened, "Haven't been there in ages." She cast a sidelong look at Cable. "No one ever invites me."   
  
"Dom, cherie, you could invite de lad yourself," Remy pointed out, from Betsy's side.   
  
Logan inserted his own words of wisdom with, "Just don't forget to make him pay, Nina."   
  
I chuckled as Dom blanked the expression on her face and Nate blushed even more. "Really, guys, if I'd known that's where everyone wanted to go..."   
  
"You'd still have wanted to come here." Nate was watching me with those uncanny eyes. One silvery-gold, one blue, both penetrating.   
  
"Yeah." I shrugged. "I've had my fill of ritzy-artsy-fartsy places. I," I paused and took a sip of the beer in front of me, "needed a break."   
  
"And this way you don't have to explain what you did to that bastard." Raven raised her own glass. "In fact, I propose a toast."   
  
Everyone shrugged and lifted their glasses, I held mine up an looked at Raven, "Well?"   
  
"I toast, to Marya Louisa Susanna DeZorga. May she always get her man."   
  
I snorted. "I toast, to all of us, may we live into old age so we can tell our great grandchildren about our adventures."   
  
"Speak for yourself, Dez, I'm NOT telling my grandkids half of what I did," Dom retorted.   
  
On that note, we all drank.   
  
For a moment, we all were in accord. And then all hell broke loose.   
  
"You stupid mutie scum! You don't belong here, get out!"   
  
The voice shattered our peace, and we were all stiffening, straightening, reaching for our non-existent weapons. Well, except for Raven, who NEVER goes unarmed. And me. But I always have a knife on me. The voice came from the bar area, so it wasn't aimed at us. We could have just ignored it.   
  
"Move, Rave, I've gotta hit the washroom." I dug an elbow into her side. She winced, but moved.   
  
"Mare, don't do anything stupid."   
  
I flashed her a dangerous smile. "When have I ever done that?"   
  
"Oh, shit," she whispered, to my departing back.   
  
Dom snorted from behind me as I carefully maneuvered through the crowd. "You knew she'd do something as soon as she heard it."   
  
I could see the combatants, now. A young man was standing in front of his date. She couldn't have been more than twenty-one, blonde, unless it was dyed. Her skin was mottled red and green, almost Christmassy. Looking at it, I knew that it wasn't a mutation. Even from here I could see the kneedle marks. Tats like that must have taken her years to finish.   
  
The man accosting the tattooed girl and her boyfriend was big and butch-looking. He was also drunk off his ass and in need of a lobotomy. Or death. I wasn't sure which sounded more poetic.   
  
"Excuse me?" I politely inserted myself between them and looked impishly up at the drunkard. "I couldn't help but overhear you. And, sir?" I leaned in close, wincing away from his breath, and whispered, "You're making an ass of yourself."   
  
He bellowed. That's the only word for it. It sounded like a bull getting maimed (snip, snip) and really *feeling* the pain. "Stupid bitch, get outta my way so I can thrash this scumbag!"   
  
"Um...Sorry, can't do that." I smiled ingeniously up at him while surreptitiously checking the crowd for my dinner companions. Rave was on my left, Betsy to my right. Behind me, chatting with the bartender, I could sense Dom. Cable was a null behind his shields and Logan was a mass of emotions. Remy, on the other hand glowed coolly from directly behind the 'gentleman' in front of me.   
  
Empathy is a wonderful tool. It's also a hazard in a fight. Which is why as soon as I'd ascertained their relative positions, I shut it down. The man in front of me was still trying to work through his alcoholic haze to decide if he could hit me or not.   
  
"C'mon, sir, let's just drop this, okay?" I smiled again, stepping into him again. Unconsciously, he moved away. Good. Very good. If I could keep this up, I could get him far enough away that the two he'd been yelling at could--   
  
"DEZ!" Dom's voice shattered my mental hold on the man and made me aware that something was wrong. Very wrong. Instinct slammed through me and I twisted, but not far enough. A knife slipped into my side. My knife, I realised dimly.   
  
The boy didn't have time to do more than look at me with dead eyes before Betsy grabbed him from behind, using a nerve pinch to get him to drop the knife. Raven caught me as the shock hit and my legs went. "Mare--"   
  
"Gimme a moment," I gasped. The wound wasn't shallow, but I wasn't going to die from it.   
  
The blood was a catalyst, though. The delicately balanced room erupted into violence. People threw chairs, beer, glasses, plates, forks and spoons and myriad other articles of the establishment. I even saw a pair of gentlemen's undergarments weave past me at one point.   
  
Raven fought above me and then was swallowed up as I tried to dodge everything and slip out. My blood slipped through the fingers I had clasped to my left side. It wouldn't stop bleeding. And the little prick still had my knife.   
  
I ducked under one table and scuttled out into the path of a pinwheeling drunkard. We both went down and I lost the grip on my wound. Blood gushed out, happily spilling on the ground. "Fuck."   
  
It was succinct and to the point. I was pinned under the dead weight of a man twice my weight, who stank of large amounts of booze and other disgusting things while I bled to death. And around me a bar fight of massive proportions was taking place, and I *wasn't having fun.*   
  
"That's it. That's bloody it." Power flared around me, and delved into the wound, my healing factor kicking into overtime. Within ten seconds I wasn't bleeding anymore. Twenty and the wound had sealed completely. Thirty and I began shoving upwards, attempting to remove my captor.   
  
Something grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted him up. "Ah, dere you be, chere."   
  
"Give me a hand, Remy."   
  
He complied, and I was rapidly standing in the middle of the eye of the bar fight. "Thanks."   
  
One word and both of us weighed back in, searching for our comrades and trying to remove ourselves in one piece.   
  
I was suddenly back to back with Braddock, who had a handy way of snapkicking her opponents. I found myself using good old fashioned punches, though. And blocks. We were slowly slipping towards the door. No words or mental abilities were needed for this, you'd have to be dumb to not want to get out of a bar fight.   
  
Bar fights aren't fought on any "I'm right, you're wrong!" principle. They're nothing but a group of people descending to the level of primitives and spilling blood for the fun of it. It's not exactly kill or be killed, but it's close. More like, knock them out first, or they knock you into the plate-glass window. I've gone through plate glass. It hurts.   
  
"Fuckin'ell, Mare, you know how to show a girl a good time." Raven. She was just there, abruptly. She hadn't taken her gun out and her eyes were glowing. I guess she didn't get out much.   
  
"I do try," I said dryly, dodging another clumsily thrown punch. We were nearly to the door by this time. Nate had made it there first and thrown it open. Somewhere in the bar behind me I could hear Logan going at it with a happy madness.   
  
"Go, chere." Remy appeared on my other side and shoved me to the door, grabbing my opponent and flipping him back into the bar.   
  
"Fine, fine," I muttered, slipping through the door and immediately to the side as Raven and Betsy dashed through. "Where's Logan?"   
  
"Remy went to get him." Betsy replied calmly. She was barely flushed, as if it had been just a routine excercise. I envied her that for a moment, then winced. "What is it?"   
  
"I'm coming down off the bloody adrenaline-high," I replied testily, as my legs turned to water. "Even healed, I lost a ton of blood."   
  
"Duh," Raven said dryly, before she slipped underneath my right arm and stabled me.   
  
"Thanks," I mumbled, as we staggered to the van.   
  
"Don't mention it."   
  
In the distance, I heard the van start. And as we walked towards it, I vaguely wondered what had happened to the man who'd knifed me and the tattooed girl. Come to that, where the hell was my knife?   
  
---   
  
I was hot, tired, sweaty and in a slight amount of pain. I'd just been in a bar fight and I did NOT need some redheaded tight-ass bitch with a poker residing where her backbone should be telling ME I was irresponsible.   
  
"--this sort of behavior will NOT be tolerated!"   
  
"Grey?" My voice was neutral, but I was seething. How DARE SHE?   
  
She wasn't calming down, but I did see Raven slowly back away from us. She took Forge and the finally-met Hank McCoy with her. "You have an excuse for this sort of flagrantly destructive behavior?" Her hands were already on her hips, she reminded me of caricatures of bad mothers, all anger and rage, no compassion. "I'd like to hear it."   
  
"I didn't start the fight."  
  
State the facts, they always said. Start there, then elaborate. Grey wasn't going to give me the chance. This I already knew. After all, she hadn't listened when Betsy -- gods bless her -- had attempted to explain.   
  
"That's exactly what I thought you'd say," she snapped, cutting me off. She was pacing, now, in full Rant Mode. "It's just the kind of thing I would expect from an irresponsible little poser who thinks she can be an X-Man, but only cares about spying on us!"   
  
"Nice run-on." I said, conversationally. Peripherally I knew Rave had gotten everyone out of the room. And someone had summoned Charles, I could feel him trying to link with me. Fuck off, old man, I thought tiredly, I'm still dealing with your hellcat. "Not that any of it was true."   
  
"Really?" She asked me scornfully, her voice quieting, "I've read your confidential file. I *know* what you've done with your life."   
  
"Jean. Only I was allowed access to that file, per Nick's request," Charles barked, from behind her.   
  
Jean whirled and looked down at him, "Then you've seen it -- what she did. Shall I escort her to the Danger Room so we can put her in a cell?"   
  
"I don't think so," I said coldly, standing. I looked at Xavier. "You knew everything that was in my file. And you still took me on." I cocked my head, "Do your people normally question your judgment like this?"   
  
He didn't get a chance to respond, Jean was whirling back to me, anger incarnate. "You stupid bitch!"   
  
I saw the punch, I even had time to stop it. I didn't. A few seconds later, I was dazedly staring up at the ceiling of the infirmary. Blood crawled lazily down my cheek from the corner of my mouth. Several teeth ached, and I knew chewing was going to be damned difficult. Wincing, I looked up to see Jean held in the grip of a TK hand.   
  
"Thanks, Nate." I rasped out, leaning against the bed I'd fallen against. I straightened and my vision went gray for a moment. "Shit."   
  
"Shut up and sit still," Dom was snapping at me. I must've really gotten hit. How much TK had been behind Jean's punch?   
  
My mind wandered for a bit as my brain reset itself. Massive bloodloss does that to me. I overheard snatches and pieces of conversations and a few bits of mental conversation. Odd feeling, that. I had the notion that someone was deliberately letting me into them.   
  
Either way, I ended up waking to find a large, blue furry thing looming over me. Unlike most women I just blinked, "Hallo." Or tried to say it.   
  
"Ah, you're awake." Nice, cultured, male voice.   
  
I nodded and regretted it. Stars burst behind my eyes for a moment, then steadied as the latent healing kicked up a notch by subconscious control. My healing abilities are boosted by two things. One, my telepathy/TK. Second, I'm a Slayer. There are a few funky mystical bits that come with that. Including healing, pain-blocking and super strength.   
  
"Water," I croaked.   
  
A movement, and a cup was held to my lips. The fur on the hand there was so very soft. I drank. Water slid down my abused and parched throat. Lovely, glorious, wet, water.   
  
"Thank you." My voice sounded normal, now. "How long have I been out?"   
  
"Well..."   
  
The hesitancy made me nervous, and I turned on my side to look up at the blue-furred man. "Tell me."   
  
"A day and a half."   
  
"WHAT?" I sat up straight, ignoring the slight wooziness that hit me. "You drugged me, didn't you." I closed my eyes and muttered in Greek.   
  
"I do apologise, but due to the majority of your friends who attempted to convince us of your innocence being of similarly disreputable past, it was deemed the best solution."   
  
He did sound unhappy. "And I'm awake now, because..?"   
  
"With the egregarious amount of sedative I had to pump into your veins, I made a decision to let this dose wear off, so as not to damage your body or brain in any way."   
  
I nodded. "I've got a high immunity to a lot of drugs. Especially sedatives and pain killers." I winced. The loginess was annoying, but it was slowly dissipating. What was worse was the sense that I'd missed something big. Something I needed to be around for.   
  
"I am, as you may have guessed, Henry McCoy." He held out a handpaw.   
  
As I accepted and shook it, I suddenly was assaulted by a myriad of images. I swayed and leaned back into the pillows. his hand released mine as he reached out to steady me.   
  
"You should lie down, make sure the sedative has completely worn off."   
  
"No. Thanks, but, no." I shoved away from him and rolled out of the bed on the other side. For a second, the room spun. What the HELL had they given me?   
  
Whatever it was, it was sodding powerful. Nothing could normally keep me knocked out for a few hours, let alone a day and a half. And leave me feeling like this? Nuhuh. I turned to gaze at the doctor across the bed from me. "What did you give me?"   
  
"Just a sedative." He sounded reluctant to tell me what was in it.   
  
I, on the other hand, needed to know what had been successful at drugging me so deeply. "Look, HON, tell me. Please." I added the please only at the last minute.   
  
He blinked at me, then nodded slowly. "Codeine and morphine, along with a special mixture I made up for telepaths -- to dull their receptions."   
  
I realised he really wasn't going to tell me. Fine. I could deal with that. One thing still bothered me, though. "Can I borrow a robe? I rather doubt nudity is a standard in the X-Mansion."   
  
McCoy blinked at me, apparently only now taking into account the fact that I was naked as the day I was born. "Yes. Just a moment." He stepped out of the antiseptic, thoroughly high tech-looking, exam room and came back a moment later with a discarded lab coat. "I do apologise for not thinking on this sooner."   
  
"That's okay." I shrugged into the coat and found it nearly twice my size. I sort of disappeared in the voluminous folds. "Thanks."   
  
I left the doctor to his work, whatever it was. He liked leaning over a microscope and muttering gleefully. That struck me as wrong, but I wasn't sure why. The hallway to my room was empty, thank the gods. I didn't need anyone seeing me in this bloody lab coat. Especially since I'm sure I looked like a kid playing dressup with mum's clothes.   
  
That thought made me stop for a moment. I hadn't ever done that. Never had the chance to play dressup. My life had been too weird, what with time storms, past, present and future Fates depending on me.   
  
It suddenly occurred to me that they had made a big fuss over me. Yet, here I was, awake and roaming the hallways. Alone. As that thought crossed my mind, I finally identified the slight shurring noise behind me and turned to stare at Scott. "Following me? How quaint."   
  
"Guarding you," he said shortly.   
  
I snorted. "From Jean, or the rest of the X-Men?" After all, *I* certainly hadn't thrown the first punch. Hell, I hadn't even thrown one punch at the redhaired bitch.   
  
"Neither." He appeared to be trying not to look at my less-than-perfectly-clothed state.   
  
"Uhuh." I turned and continued down the hall, tossing over my shoulder, "Well, if you're going to do this the right way, keep up with me."   
  
I heard him stumble slightly to keep up, but then he was fine. My room was only a few more doors down the hall, I opened the door and stepped in. The door was swinging shut behind me, when Scott shoved it open again. I whirled and glared. "Unless you're into voyeurism, I plan to get dressed. ALONE."   
  
He blushed and backed out, letting the door shut.   
  
Considering my wardrobe, I decided it was going to be a comfort day. Power dressing could wait for when I felt the need to impress. Personally, they could toss me out on my ear, and I wouldn't care. Well, almost wouldn't. As I mentally went back over the last few days and put together the bits and pieces of mental conversation I'd overheard, I pulled on black jeans, a green T-shirt with "I've been a Goddess, have you?" stenciled in black and white on the front, black socks and boots.   
  
My collection of T-shirts was extensive. I had everything from very mundane things, to some of the previously mentioned shirts (most notably, the "I'm a bitch, ask me how" shirt). I, unfortunately, tended to get them destroyed a lot, too. Battle tends to rip, tear and shred fabric.   
  
Hair was my next thought, so I glanced in the mirror and sighed. The multicoloured mass needed to be washed, but, as usual, it was neatly in place. Well, not neatly. It was wildly cascading every which way, but it looked like it was supposed to do that. Which it did. I sighed again and grabbed a knife and sheath, quickly strapping them into my boot. Since I'd lost the one at my back to the bloody hooligan at the bar, I needed another.   
  
The hooligan...My mind grabbed that thought and something niggled. Something about the way he'd looked at me, his eyes flat and black. I shook my head and the feeling dislodged and buried itself again. Dammit. What was of more interest, I suddenly remembered, was the weird flash I'd gotten when shaking McCoy's hand. I frowned and reached for another knife -- this one for my back.   
  
Something was very wrong, there. But I didn't have time to figure out what, suddenly. A mind-voice slammed into my shields and tapped me on the back.   
  
#X-Men, we have an intruder!#   
  
"Shit." I was moving for the door when Scott opened it.   
  
"I've--"   
  
I barreled past him, heading towards the foyer at a near dead-run. Not that running to danger was a good thing, but I had the feeling that I'd be needed. And soon.   
  
---  
End Chapter Three   
  
=====  
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'  
  
__________________________________________________  
  
  
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga 


	4. Of Secrets and Impressions

Disclaimer thingie: Marvel owns the X-Men and all of their relatives. BBC/Lionheart own Doctor Who and Ms. Sam-Jones. Highlander is, iirc, owned by Rysher Entertainment. Buffy is owned by Joss Whedon (all hail the Master) and Fox/WB.   
Marya, otoh, is mine. And, as a friend said, "If I discover any of you jabronis using Marya, I will take your little fanfic, spellcheck it real nice, save it in .txt format, turn that sumbitch sideways, and stick it STRAIGHT UP YOUR CANDY-ASS!"   
  
PG13/R for swearing and some nastiness.   
  
Notes: as before, I really *have* been coerced into mucking about with X-history. *narrow-eyed glare at a certain EvilKitten*   
  
Dedication: To Lynxie, for co-plotting, kicking my ass for more and dragging in extraneous suggestions. Tap, is in there, too, as SHE helped Lynxie kick my ass into gear for writing it. KayJay and AliciaMc, however, are to be given the kudos for originally spawning the idea. And, Mitai, just 'cause.   
  
Oh, and this is one of those Guess the Author thingies... What, you REALLY thought my name was Suzy DeZorga? Gad, you people are wierd.  
  
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga   
Chapter Four: Of Secrets and Impressions  
by Suzy DeZorga  
  
I hadn't liked the way Xavier had phrased that. Almost as if he knew who it was and wanted something Very Bad (tm) to happen to them. I skidded around one corner and grabbed a doorway to loose some of the speed, then around another. And so on until I was skidding into the foyer. Unfortunately, I miscalculated and found myself tripping on the rug and flying through the air to slam into someone.   
  
We went down hard. My lungs decided they hated me and stopped working for a moment. An elbow shoving into my sternum made them change their minds and I wheezed and rolled off of the person. For an instant, I felt an extreme feeling of recognition. Almost like I'd run into someone from a past moment in my life.   
  
The first thing I heard was a female voice suddenly cursing vociferously. Next, I saw the hair. "Oh, shit. Jean?"   
  
"I am NOT that stupid yuppie COW." The head turned to glare at me. Green eyes blazed extreme annoyance at me.   
  
"Fuck. Don't hit me?" I shifted backwards, scrabbling away from the angry woman. Now that I'd seen her closer, I knew she wasn't Jean. It was just the hair, and the eyes, and the voice, and-- I stopped that train of thought and took in the X-crowd.   
  
They surrounded us in various states of shock, amusement, anger, and battle-readiness. I blinked up at Bishop who was training a large gun on the both of us. "Bish?"   
  
"Yes, Marya?" He didn't move.   
  
"Could you maybe point that somewhere else? You know, in case it accidentally goes off?" I shifted to my knees, then stood. For an instant I swayed, then I was fine. The sedative's side-effects had finally worn off and I was as lucid as ever. Gotta love adrenaline rushes.  
  
"Yes, Bishop, the man with the inadequacy problem, could you point that, oh, maybe at the cow attempting to marry my husband?" The syrupy sweetness of the woman's voice nearly sent me into hysterical giggles.   
  
"Stand down, Bishop. I don't think our visitor wishes any of us harmed." Xavier wheeled forawrd in his chair. He barely glanced at me, more focused on the 'visitor' than anything else.   
  
The intensity annoyed me. I turned around and held out a hand. "Hi. Sorry about that. Marya DeZorga."   
  
She stared at me for a moment, then snickered. "New, aren't you?" She didn't shake my hand.   
  
"Yeah." I tilted my head to the side and let my hand drop. "And you are?"   
  
"Madelyne Pryor." She turned to Charles. "Hello, Chuck. Not that I came to see you. Hell, not that I came to see ANY of you. Well, almost none." She looked at the crowd and smiled. "Ah, there you are. How are you, Nate?"   
  
I raised an eyebrow. "You came to see Nate?" I looked over at Nate, who was actually looking a bit uncomfortable. "Why?"   
  
"It's Christmas," she snapped. "He's my son, why *shouldn't* I bloody well see him?"   
  
"Son?" I blinked. My world view had just gotten a bit of adjustment. The young, nubile young woman was at LEAST ten years younger than the hulking Nathan Summers. Summers, again, I could never get away from them. And, that meant -- "You're Scott's wife."   
  
"Yes." She narrowed her eyes and looked at Scott, who squirmed. "It should be ex, but I was sort of dead for a while, so the divorce never got finalised."   
  
This put a whole new light on certain things. Although, one was still bothering me. "So, if you're Cable's mum, why's he got Jean's DNA?"   
  
"Because she's my god-forsaken clone." A voice said brittlely.   
  
"Always nice to know my template appreciates me."   
  
I looked at Grey, then the rest of the X-ers and moved so that I was semi-shielding Pryor with my body. "Well, it's Christmas. A time for families--"   
  
"Oh, is that why Forge brought that whore with him?" Jean smiled sweetly and unpleasantly at me. "I noticed you get on well. Is it fun fucking someone who can change their equipment in the middle of it?"   
  
My eyes widened. Miss Prim and Proper was gone. In her place was the Bitter Hag. Grey had teeth and claws and wasn't afraid to use them.   
  
"JEAN!" Scott grabbed his betrothed and turned her, shaking her. "What's gotten into you? Stop this!"   
  
"I-I." Her face crumpled and she threw herself into his arms, crying. "I'm tired, my love. Take me home."   
  
I knew what she considered home. She and Scott lived together separately from the Mansion in an old boathouse on the lake. I was very unimpressed with her display of temper. And, I must have projected that, because she turned and glared at me, all traces of tears gone. "And I've read your file, you bitch. I know what you've done. They don't," she waved an arm at the assembled crowd, "but I do."   
  
"Really?" I asked conversationally, wishing I had something to lean against so I could cross my arms and look boredly unconcerned. "Then tell them."   
  
She seemed to deflate a little, then rallied. "Fine. I know it was you who hacked the Pentagon. After all, you're so proud of it, and let it go into your file." She seemed triumphant, as if that was something to be proud of.  
  
Not that I was all that proud of hacking the Pentagon. Even though the reason had been a good one.   
  
Cable coughed from the crowd, I glanced at him and caught the sight of Dom elbowing him. Both of them knew of that job, just as both knew the reasons for it. Hell, so did Raven and Logan.   
  
It was Xavier that answered Jean, though. "Jean, I think you're seriously over-stressed. You should go lay down and rest for a while."   
  
"But, she--" Jean was nearly shrieking. "She did that, and you don't care?"   
  
"Actually, I already knew," Xavier said calmly.   
  
"But she's DANGEROUS, Charles."   
  
"At least she's a security risk for OTHER people when she's with us."   
  
"BISHOP?!" I blinked, too. After all, until that moment, I had no idea the large black man liked me, let alone thought it was good that I was evil to his enemies.   
  
"He's right." Rogue shrugged and moved to pat Jean on the arm. "You're stressing too much, hon. She's working on our side."   
  
I blinked again. Apparently, the X-Men had, as one, decided they liked me. That was weird. Usually, it takes another week before everyone likes me. At least, it had taken two weeks with the Avengers. I frowned. The Avengers...McCoy.   
  
"FINE." Jean's voice could have frozen hell. "I see you're all determined to ignore the fact that this woman is a dangerous spy and should be in jail. *I* am going away from her presence before she manipulates MY mind." With that the redhead whirled and flounced from the room. Scott gave us all a slight worried look, then ran after her, like a good little puppy dog. I didn't like that image, though.   
  
"I take it this is a once a month thing for her?" I asked dryly, slowly relaxing from the battle-ready stance.   
  
"She always like that. We blame it on her inability t' get laid more often," Remy replied.   
  
"Thanks, Gambit. There goes my plans for ever eating lunch," Madelyne said, with a look of distaste. Several of the X-Crowd were fighting grins and laughter.   
  
"Maddie, you don't need to eat," Remy pointed out, with an insouciant grin.   
  
She snorted. "Damn. I don't? Too bad."   
  
"Don't need to eat?" I raised an eyebrow. "Why not?" I paused and my stomach rumbled alarmingly. "'cause, I certainly do."   
  
As if that was a pre-arranged signal, people began dispersing. Storm wandered over to me and gave Maddie a cold look. I noticed Raven grab Forge's arm and laugh throatily at something. My lips twisted into a smile as we trooped down the hall.   
  
"What is so funny?" Madelyne had stuck with me, apparently deciding that she liked me. That, or maybe the look Dom had given her had convinced her that sticking by me, her one protector, was a good idea. As neutral as the look had been, I had the feeling Dom was trying to decide, and that Nate was talking to her about it through their link.   
  
"Raven and Forge." I smiled more, feeling happy all at once. "They're so cute together, don't you agree, Ororo?" I turned to the Weather Goddess and caught something in her eyes that made me guess I'd just set back any friendship we might have by a thousand years.   
  
"Yes," she said softly. "If you'll excuse me." She nodded to both of us and turned away, leaving the hall for parts unknown.   
  
Madelyne snickered.   
  
"What?"   
  
"You didn't know?" She shook her head at me. "Back when I was hanging exclusively with these idealistic fools, Storm and Forge were an item. Or, would have been if she'd've gotten off her Goddess-cratic ass and told him."  
  
"I only just got involved with them. Didn't know that." I sighed. "Great. So, what other things do you recommend I not do?"   
  
"Oh, no. You're on your own, hon." She smiled sweetly at me. "Just like I was."   
  
"Not even a little bit?" I gave her my best impression of Anime eyes.   
  
"No." She snickered. "Besides, it'll be more fun this way."  
  
"Oh, thanks," I said dryly. "That makes my day allll better."  
  
---  
  
Later that evening, after I'd left Betsy taking Maddie in hand, I sat cross-legged on the floor of my room and meditated. Every evening, I tried to do this sort of thing. The object is to strengthen my mental abilities and give me a moment of peace to recharge in. Slipping into a trance, I opened my eyes and looked at the shields surrounding me. They shimmered at me, blue and green, silver streaking through in strands.   
  
I reached out mentally and played with them, twisting them, stretching them. Around me, I could suddenly sense emotions. No pictures, or words, just feelings. Anger, joy, happiness, a bit of rage, and a few blank spots I took to be telepaths well-shielded. The normal mix I'd assume a house full of people would produce. Especially since some weren't happy with some of the others.  
  
Old friends, new friends. People who hated each other or liked each other. Enemies, lovers, friends...   
  
Old friends...The thought drifted through my head and I remembered Will, suddenly. It had been ages since I'd thought of him. We'd been lovers, back in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Our affair had been wonderfully torrid, just what I'd needed at the time. And it had been an affair. He was married, you see.   
  
Not that I'd cared. I found myself smiling, suddenly. Will had been special. There were times when I missed him. I abruptly realised that Scott, oddly enough, reminded me of Will. I wasn't sure why, though.   
  
I shook my head, trying to dislodge thoughts of old lovers and things fell into place. McCoy. And the Avengers. I'd met him, once. It had been a very fleeting meeting, and I rather doubt he'd remember me. But I remembered him. And, the personality flash I'd gotten then did NOT match the flash I'd gotten from him just a short while ago.   
  
Ergo, McCoy wasn't McCoy, I wasn't sure -- my brain slid into another pathway and I was suddenly deluged by those split-second memories. Memories of a place not ours, of a world destroyed. A world where Apocalypse ruled, and McCoy experimented happily on his fellow mutants.   
  
I snapped out of the trance, shaking. It was a world I recognised. I'd thought it was a dream. But I'd lived it. And I didn't want anything from it to destroy what was here.   
  
Not that I was ever certain those memories were real. At times, they felt like the dreams of someone else. Other times, like now, they felt as if they'd happened yesterday.  
  
It was in this pensive mood that I went in search of Remy.  
  
---  
  
"Remy?" I was sort of leaning against the door to his room, knocking would alert more people to my presence. People like certain auburn-haired women who had a thing for my old friend.   
  
Movement, then the door cracked open and Remy stared out at me. "Yes, Lou -- Marya?"   
  
"Remy, you can still call me Louisa," I said softly, backing up and pondering the options. Chat in his room or mine? Mine, at least, had mental shields already set up for activation. Still...   
  
He just looked at me for a moment, then opened the door wider, shrugging. "If you say so."   
  
I ran a hand through my hair and chose a third option. "Look, there's something I need to ask you -- could we go for a walk outside?" Actually, I realised, that was a brilliant idea. Logan needed to know about my suspicions, too.   
  
"Jus' a moment."   
  
The door closed again and I heard him rummaging around, then it opened again and he had a shirt on. It suddenly occurred to me that I wasn't attracted to my old friend in the least. How else to explain the fact that I hadn't actually realised he was half-naked?   
  
I shook my head and led the way through the various halls of the mansion. A side door let us out onto the south lawn. Ahead of us, I could see a glimmer that made me think of water. Had to be the lake I hadn't bothered to check out yet. Nearby, though, were trees. Perfect.  
  
We stayed silent until we'd entered the perimeter of the trees. As we crunched along, the leaves delightfully in that brittle-crunchy state, I finally started. "Remy...Did anything happen recently with McCoy?"  
  
He blinked at me. "He be a bit more quiet, more buried in 'is work."  
  
Mentally weaving a field of silence around us -- crunching leaves are a wonderful muffler, I sighed. "Remy, I think something happened to him."   
  
"Oh?" He was suddenly densely neutral. I blinked up at him and halted.  
  
"Yes." I leaned against the tree next to me and pondered how to put it, precisely..."When in doubt, tell the truth," I muttered. "Remy, I caught a flash from him, earlier, when I shook his hand. I...I met McCoy, once. He'd come back to the Avenger's Mansion one Christmas. We shook hands, and I got a telepathic imprint from him. Just one of the thousands I've got stored from myriad handshakes, touches, etcetera."   
  
"Where you be goin' wit' dis, Louisa?" He didn't sound impatient, just...Wondering.   
  
"The man I shook hands with this morning is a different person."   
  
I waited the silence out as he processed that and watched me carefully. "Why?"   
  
"When the Shi'ar M'Kraan crystal shattered for a millisecond, a new universe was born. I lived that universe, and, in my nightmares, I remember it." I shuddered. "The place was horrible. But, Remy, it was a parallel to this one. Every X-Man was duplicated. Including McCoy." I looked at him, checking to make sure he was following me. He was. "I think that he -- found a way, somehow, and came across to this universe." I shivered. "I just hope he was the only one."   
  
"He wasn't," a voice rasped from above me.   
  
I jumped, then glared up at Logan. "Oh? And just how do you know this?" I knew it wasn't because he was from that universe.   
  
"There was a boy. A few weeks back he had an argument on the astral plain with--"   
  
"Xavier," I cut in, paling. I remembered, now. I'd woken out of a sound sleep to find the astral plain around me, shuddering. "They tore it to shreds, you know. Power of that magnitude and all they could do was destroy." I snorted. "So, the boy is..." My eyes widened in shock. "He's Nate, isn't he?"   
  
"Yes." Gambit looked at me, then Logan. "De chere here, she t'ink dat our Henri is not de right one." "I caught that, Cajun."  
  
I snorted. "I don't THINK, I KNOW. Psychic imprints don't lie."  
  
"Neither do noses." Logan dropped out of the tree. "I knew he smelled wrong, but I wasn't sure why."   
  
"The McCoy in the other universe -- he was a genetic manipulator. Maybe he made up pheromones that duplicated the real McCoy's?" I winced at the horrid pun, but continued. "Either way, I'm betting the real Henry is alive. Maybe not well, but alive."   
  
"I t'ink she be right." Remy lit a cigarette and puffed for a moment, gathering his thoughts.   
  
"If I am right, we need to get his location from our erstwhile 'chum'." I absently checked the mental and aural cloaking around us and found it still stable. There was, however, someone approaching us rapidly.   
  
Logan stiffened, and then relaxed. Remy raised an eyebrow. "Who be comin'?"   
  
"I am." Madelyne stepped into the clearing and snorted. "Nice gathering you have here." She glanced at me, "Remember next time to not use Garbage's 'Stupid Girl' as filler noise for your brains. If you have them."   
  
I laughed and reached into the folds of my shields and made some adjustments. "There, that better?"   
  
"Yes." She raised an eyebrow, "So, what are you plotting and why didn't anyone tell me?"   
  
"McCoy isn't our Henri."   
  
"Oh, what a shock," Maddie snorted. "And you're just realising this?"   
  
I blinked at her. "You knew?"   
  
"Well, not knew. Guessed is a better word." She glared at us. "Oh, come on. You know how I was reborn in this universe. Of COURSE I mind-scanned the little brat that did it."   
  
"Had a lot of memories of that universe, didn't he?" I asked softly.   
  
"Yes." She snorted. "Although I wasn't pleased to find that his mother there was that cow, Jean."   
  
Snickering, I leaned back against the tree again. Obviously, Madelyne's hatred of Jean was very deep-seated. Enough to give any woman lusting after her husband pause. But that was a thought for a later date. A date when I wasn't dealing with an evil geneticist impersonating a much nicer man. And his plans for world domination. I hoped this was the threat Fury's people had foreseen.   
  
In short order we'd decided to have a chat with McCoy and proceed from there. I suggested we get Braddock's help. Maddie agreed, Remy and Logan agreed and also suggested we get Lorna and Nate. I blinked, but agreed. I knew Dom would end up along with us, that was a given where Nate was concerned.   
  
---   
  
"To what do I owe this nocturnal visit?"   
  
It had been late evening before we'd decided on a strategy. I went in, alone. "Just wondering something..." I paused and stepped further into the lab. State of the art equipment dotted the benches and shelves. Slides sat on every available surface. Currently, there was one in the electron microscope. And I recognised what it was. DNA. Mine, to be exact. Hard to mistake it for anything else, of course. "Just wondering why you're looking at my DNA."   
  
He blinked at me, then shrugged, "I was hoping there might be a cure for the Legacy virus in it."   
  
Shit. He knew. Or, at least, it looked that way. I shrugged and chuckled. "Nah, I haven't had the vaunted virus, yet." I moved to relax against one of the counters. "So, let's dispense with the pleasantries, shall we?"   
  
He blinked, then smiled toothily. "Oh, good. A woman of sense."  
  
"Indeed." I nodded and smiled sweetly. "What have you done with him?"   
  
"Ah, the penultimate question." He looked at me calmly. "And what makes you think I'll tell you?"   
  
"Dunno. What's the ultimate question?"   
  
"Please let me live?" he opined before moving. He was fast, I'll give him that. But he wasn't me.   
  
Telekinetic bands snapped into place around him, one arching over his mouth and nose. "Cutting off your oxygen supply is bad for your brain, right?" I straightened and began walking around him, studying him clinically. "Not that it matters. I think it'd be fun to see what it does to your brain." I leaned into him, ignoring his futile struggles. "Where is he?"   
  
For an instant, I saw something that might have been fear in his eyes, then hatred blazed out. And something else. Triumph.   
  
The triumph was my only warning before something slammed into the back of my head and everything went black.   
  
I refrained from swearing as I woke up. My head ached, probably from where someone had hit me with a bench. Or had it been a door? I wasn't sure, it had just *hurt*. I couldn't have been out for long, because, currently, I could hear the faux McCoy congratulating his rescuer. Although my hands were tied behind my back with what felt like electrical cord.   
  
Grey, my mind guessed. The stupid bitch had no idea what she'd done. Of course, I was now pissed and ethics aside, I needed to know where the real Henry was. "Hey, Grey," I rasped.   
  
"Oh, awake are you? Good. Do try and resist the restraints on you, I'll enjoy the struggling."   
  
"Whatever." My eyes drifted closed and I dropped my shields. For an instant there was silence, then a cacophony of noise and emotion. Hate from Grey, smugness from McCoy. Outside, a few metres down the hall, I could feel Remy's worry and Logan's complaisence. Nate, I could vaguely sense as a null, and next to him, Dom and Maddie and Lorna. Betsy was shielded. Further away, I could sense the rest of the mansion, but I ruthlessly shunted those away from me and turned back to Maddie. #Maddie.#   
  
#What?# She sounded cross, #Did the bitch get you?#   
  
#Yes. I've tossed caution to the wind.# I felt her link in with me and reached out to McCoy. #Here little despotic evil geneticist bastard...#   
  
She snickered.  
  
#Ah, there he is.# I reached out and dove into the mind of the man. For an instant, there was nothing, then I heard the surface thoughts. 'Listen to this stupid fool, little does she know...' 'I wonder if they'll let me use her DNA? It's so lovely and twisted...' Mine, I was assuming.   
  
So far, he hadn't detected the entry into his brain. But I still hadn't-- #There.#   
  
#Core memory. Damned bastard has a lot.#   
  
#Yeah.# I reached out and grabbed them. All the memories, loves, hates, days and years of Henry McCoy, late of a dark universe. They spilled into my mind and Madelyne's, filling us with him until we wanted to fight back. But we didn't. We needed the information, the location -- #You okay?#   
  
#Yeah. Stupid bastard has a ton of memories.#   
  
#Yes. Get the others in here, if you would?# I reached out, slowly reinstating my shields. I'd pay when I finally slept, all those people's memories would make for lots of dreams. But for now, I needed to sort the info while the others took care of Grey and the McCoy impostor.   
  
#Right.# A moment passed, then the door opened. "Grey, you supercilious bitch."   
  
"Madelyne? What are you -- Nathan!"   
  
"Hello, Jean. Please leave. We have a few things to discuss with Mr McCoy." Nate sounded exhausted. Since that was a normal thing for him, I wasn't too worried.   
  
A sound near me alerted me and I rolled, falling off the lab bench and landing under the table. "Ouch."   
  
"McCoy, that was stupid." Dom.   
  
"Nice to know the cavalry's arrived," I croaked, cracking my eyes open and staring out. My view was limited, but I could see Jean and Maddie glaring at each other while Dom, Nate and Lorna cornered the impostor. I wasn't sure where Logan and Remy were, much less Betsy.   
  
"Have you the memories?" Betsy slipped under the table with me and began untying my hands.   
  
"Yeah. Think we can get out of here intact -- before Grey pulls the house down around our ears?" I slipped into a kneeling position and rubbed my wrists, wincing.   
  
"If the others do their parts. Yes."   
  
"Good. I'm going to go play with memories." I curled into a cross-legged position and tranced down without waiting for her answer. I trusted that she'd stay as guard over me.  
  
The morass of memories bubbled in my mind's eye for an instant, then I was falling into them. No matter what you hear, reading someone's memories isn't like watching a movie on a VCR. You can't stop and fast forward, or rewind. And they aren't always linear. Things the person thinks of constantly are on top, while things they don't want to remember are buried. In the middle are the things they don't want anyone else to know. Those were what I was looking for, but I had to go through the surface, first.   
  
Memories of the last few weeks flitted through my mind. Lots of research and things like that. Then I began getting more. A flash of a fight -- two men in blue fur. A flash of something else. A blond man, tied, screaming in pain as something was forced into his brain over and over again. A flash of someone else, a young woman, who secretly hated him, but stayed anyway.   
  
And there it was, suddenly. A vast storage of Sentinels, and something else, something that was buried so deep it would take me a long time to read to it. A warehouse, somewhere on the East Side of New York. I frowned, something about it looked familiar. I came out of the trance in a bit of a hurry, causing my body to sway slightly. "Found it."   
  
"Good." Braddock nodded towards the main room. "They've contained him. For the moment."  
  
"Grey?"  
  
"Gone. Madelyne, Nathan, and I wiped her memory of this incident."   
  
I blinked. Apparently, that didn't go against their code of ethics. A good thing, as far as I was concerned since we needed to leave, and we needed to leave SOON. "Right then, let's get this show on the road." I crawled out from under the table, Betsy following.   
  
Nate and Dom were covering McCoy, who was tied to a chair. I wondered absently where the chair had come from. I also wondered why Raven was in the room. She glared at me, "Pulling a caper without me, Mare. Uncool."   
  
"Oh. Sorry," I grinned.   
  
McCoy snarled wordlessly and I turned to him. "Ah. The mad geneticist who's trying to give Sinister a run for his money." I sighed theatrically. "So sad, really. I think an accident should work, though. Something simple."  
  
"Marya, he's unarmed." Lorna sounded surprised at the repressed viciousness in my voice.   
  
"Really? Interesting, because, so were all his test subjects when they were brought to him." I turned to the door. "Besides, I try never to leave my enemies alive. Cuts down on my liability insurance."   
  
"In cold blood?" Dane grabbed my shoulder and turned me. "I'm sorry, but--"   
  
"Sorry? HE isn't." I reached out and dumped a few choice memories gleaned from McCoy's mind into Lorna's mind. She gasped and reeled, her face paling.   
  
"My Gods."  
  
"Sorry, they're busy." I reached out with TK and found the heart of the man tied in the chair. "Goodbye."   
  
He jerked once and made a gurgling noise, then was silent, his eyes staring dully at the ceiling.   
  
"Mare..." Raven was looking at me oddly.   
  
"What?" I asked, reaching up to rub my eyes. Every so often I cursed having power levels large enough to destroy a galaxy and not enough sleep to succeed.   
  
"We should go," Betsy said softly.   
  
I felt incredibly weary as I looked at them all. I'd just finally done something that Grey hadn't accomplished. I'd disillusioned them all. At least, it felt that way. I looked at them, suddenly, wondering if it was myself I was disillusioning. After all, Nate, Dom and I had gone on assignments together. We knew what we were each capable of. Raven? Considering how often we'd talked about killing certain people...   
  
No, I suddenly realised that the feeling I was getting was from Lorna, mainly. Betsy and Maddie, too. And it hit me that this impostor had looked enough like the real Henry to fool them all. I shuddered. It must have felt almost like losing him. They'd get over it, but for now I was suddenly a person they didn't quite trust.   
  
"Yes." I turned and left the room, leaving the body of a man who had tortured and experimented on thousands of mutants and humans behind. My friends and comrades left behind their naiveté. Or, some of them, anyway.   
  
---  
End Chapter Four   
  
=====  
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'  
  
__________________________________________________  
  
  
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga 


	5. Fighting For Your Life And Remembering t...

Disclaimer thingie: Marvel owns the X-Men and all of their relatives. BBC/Lionheart own Doctor Who and Ms. Sam-Jones. Highlander is, iirc, owned by Rysher Entertainment. Buffy is owned by Joss Whedon (all hail the Master) and Fox/WB.   
Marya, otoh, is mine. Borrow her without asking and I'll have my lackeys get medieval on your roody-poo candy ass.   
  
Notes: And here, folks is more divergence from Marvel time...   
  
PG13/R for swearing and some nastiness.   
  
Dedication: To Lynxie, because she's half-co-plotter, or something. And because she wouldn't let me stop writing -.- To Acetal for betaing this monster, it ain't over yet, bub. To KayJay and Mitai and Alicia for the origin of the crazy idea. And to Tapestry for helping Lynxie kick me and get it finished.   
  
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga  
Chapter Five: Fighting for Your Life and Remembering to Still Buy a Lotto Ticket  
by Suzy DeZorga  
  
I could remember the first time I'd shocked someone by killing in cold blood. It had been shortly after my fiftieth birthday. The Round Table had collapsed and the land had faded into mediocrity. Another time storm slid me sideways in time, and to my surprise, I found myself in a completely different world.   
  
It was Earth, though. In the mid-Eighties, from what I could tell. And I'd landed in the midst of some sort of invasion. It took me a few days to acclimate myself and get used to the lingo. And then I met him. He wasn't very different looking or anything, he was just...odd.   
  
"Who's the invading blokes?" I asked him. "It's the Cybermen. They're trying to change Earth's history again," he replied. They didn't succeed.   
  
I never did learn his name -- he said it wasn't pronounceable in any Earth-born dialect or language. But I did have a grand time adventuring with him. I stayed because he'd told me he thought he could get me back -- not that it happened. He let me stay because I was good in a fight.   
  
And so we traveled. Me in my ever-increasing wardrobe of black T-shirts (one had the notable saying of, "Power is THERE to be shamelessly abused!") and he in his multicoloured jacket. We traveled through time and space until we ran into a future version of himself.   
  
The future version of the Doctor was a younger man, his hair medium length and a lovely auburn. Unlike the bombastic sandy-haired one, he was gentle and harsh at once. I liked him immediately, for which his current companion, a Ms Sam Jones, decided I had to be evil incarnate.   
  
I went with the future version, since he said he knew how to send me back. He did. But not until we'd had one more adventure during which I'd killed a station commander. The man had been evil incarnate. That still hadn't been enough for the Doctor. "But he was a human being!" "So were the three million people whose deaths he ordered!" "He wasn't ARMED." "He was still thinking, wasn't he?"   
  
Ms Jones was probably very happy to see me go.   
  
I decided we were going to need just a little more backup. I knew who to get, too. Two phone calls made, and I had some extra company that would meet us when we hit the Big Apple. At some point, Forge had cornered Raven and he was coming with us.   
  
Nearly all of them had gotten over their surprise at my cold-blooded killing. Not that many of them were bothered. But he HAD looked like someone they knew. That had to wig out anyone.   
  
We were taking the Xavier van again. I doubted the professor would want to know why we were using it, so didn't tell him. It was evening. We went out to dinner -- but to the city, this time. I'd promised no bar fights.  
  
---  
  
Our backup was waiting at the corner of Fifth and Washington. "What took you so long?" Buffy demanded softly, as she clambered into the van. "I nearly thought dad would catch me."   
  
"Sorry. We got caught in traffic coming into downtown." I hated traffic. There was a reason I normally used a 'cycle.   
  
Buffy blew air out and shrugged. "No biggie. So, who are all the costumed peoples?"   
  
"Buffy. Raven Darkholme, Madelyne Pryor, Forge, Cable, Domino, Lorna Dane, Logan, Remy LeBeau and Betsy Braddock. Guys, Buffy Summers." The introductions made, I went back to negotiating the streets of New York.  
  
"Summers?" Maddie snorted, "There are a lot of the buggers around. Who's your father, child?"   
  
"Tom Summers." Buffy shrugged. "Why?"   
  
"Just wondering if the genes you'll get from him will make our mission fail," Maddie muttered darkly.   
  
Betsy snorted. "Oh, stuff it, Madelyne."   
  
"Battle nerves, dear?" Raven inquired sweetly.   
  
"No, just making sure I come out of this alive."   
  
"What are you all so bloody worried about?" I demanded, skidding around another corner. "There's minimal security on the safehouse. No one is dying."   
  
"But you can't promise that," Buffy said softly, from my right.   
  
I shot a glance at the Slayer. "Don't even think it. You are SO not dying on my watch, Buffy Summers." I nodded, then grinned evilly. "Besides, how would I explain it to Giles?"   
  
"Oh, please -- whoa, watch out for that guy!"   
  
Split-second reflexes had me slamming on the breaks and we came screeching to a halt about six inches from a tallish man with dark hair. He glared into the van at us.  
  
"I don't think he's very happy with us," Buffy observed calmly.   
  
"Just...Don't anyone leave, okay?" I felt the need to apologise to the guy. Besides, he felt familiar. Quickly opening the door and hopping out, I found myself confronted with 32 inches of steel. Japanese steel, by the look of it. "Nice sword. Mind pointing it somewhere else?"  
  
"Not until you..." His voice trailed off and the sword dropped and then disappeared. "Marya."   
  
"Been a while." I nodded. "Is there a reason you were playing chicken with a van?"   
  
"Wasn't paying attention." He looked a bit embarrassed for a moment, then shrugged. "You wanted me for backup?"   
  
"Calling in that favour, yes." I reached for the door and hauled myself into the seat then leaned back out, "Get in. I'll explain on the way."   
  
He went around to the back and clambered in the door Dom silently opened for him. I restarted the van and moved off again, this time being a bit more careful. "Okay, people, the man we just acquired as backup is--" I turned a corner and thought of something.   
  
#Connor?#   
  
~What?~  
  
#Connor or Russell?#   
  
~Connor is fine.~   
  
I shut down the link and refocused. "Connor McLeod. Connor, I'd like you to meet Buffy Summers, Raven Darkholme, Domino, Cable, Madelyne Pryor, Forge," I paused to grab another breath, "Lorna Dane, Betsy Braddock, Logan and Remy LeBeau."   
  
"Our mission, people, should you decide to accept it, is to raid a safehouse created by an evil genetic mastermind from a different dimension."   
  
I waited for questions from the silence, then snickered. "You people have been hanging around me too long."  
  
"Duh," Buffy said.   
  
Raven snorted. "Just give us our assignments."   
  
"Right." I reached into my mind, remembering the vital information. "Raven, you, Forge and Lorna take the side door. It's halfway down the alley when we get there. Betsy, you, Logan, Remy and Maddie take the back. Nate, Dom, you're with me. Buffy and Connor. Backup. Stay with the van, I'll call -- or, one of the telepaths will call -- if you're needed. Don't, if you can help it, let the van get stolen or yourselves arrested. Connor, try not to call any other Immortals."   
  
I'd attempted to pair people up so that they were working with people they knew. I wanted to put a telepath with each team, but I knew it wouldn't -- wait. "Betsy?"   
  
"Yes?" The Asian bodied telepath looked up from inspecting Connor's sword. I could see it in the rearview, and I wondered how she'd convinced him that quickly to let her look at it.   
  
"Stay here at the van with Buffy and Connor. Nate," I glanced over my shoulder at the silver-haired man, "much as I hate breaking you and Dom up, could you go with Raven?"  
  
"Why don't I go with you, and Nate and Dom with Forge and Lorna?" Raven knew why I was dividing us up.   
  
"That works." I nodded and pulled the van to a halt. "Try to keep in contact, ladies, Nate." I smiled grimly and hopped out of the van.   
  
---   
  
Raven and I waited at the van until I heard the okays from the other two teams. We were all four linked into a mental net. Sort of. Nate, Maddie, Betsy and I. Not that Maddie and Betsy seemed to happy to play together. I sighed and hoped they'd get over the anger and deal. Soon. Hopefully before we ended up losing both.  
  
I'd have to ask later why the animosity. At the moment I was more concerned with saving the life of one Dr Henry McCoy. If what I'd picked up of the living conditions he was in, it wasn't going to be pretty. No food, only water, and he was hanging against a wall by his arms.   
  
"We're only the diversion, you know."   
  
"I guessed," Raven said calmly.   
  
"Front doors being bad for sneaking in and saving lives," Connor said dryly.   
  
"Sneaking? What's that?"   
  
I snorted at Buffy. "Something you only do once in a great while? You were noting once that you fell through more windows..."   
  
She laughed, her laughter bright and silvery in the night air. "Yes, Marya, I tend to need subterfuge when doing my fighting."   
  
"Or something like that," Connor inserted dryly.   
  
#We're ready,# Maddie whispered down the link.   
  
#That was quick,# I replied. #Nate?#   
  
#We're in place,# he reported.   
  
#Good.# I turned to Connor and hugged him. "For luck." I explained.   
  
"Ah, luck. Well, then." Before I had a chance to blink, he'd dipped me back and kissed me soundly.   
  
Raven was snickering when I finally came back to myself. I looked up at Connor bemusedly. "Wow, that was...Wow."  
  
"I'd forgotten how much fun kissing you was," he said softly. Almost wistfully.   
  
At least, I hoped it was wistful.   
  
"Let's go, Rave."   
  
"Right-o, boss."  
  
As we left I heard Buffy muttering about getting left behind when everyone was off having fun. Connor replied that he preferred waiting in backup. And then we were out of earshot.   
  
The streetlights around us illuminated the area quite well, making it difficult for anything short of a frontal assault.  
  
"We go in with guns blazing?"   
  
I grinned. Sometimes, Raven knew me better than I knew myself. "Yes."   
  
Before we'd left, I'd taken the time to change my T-shirt. It was black and ripped and torn in several place. "If there can be only one, what's the point?" blazed across the front in purple and blue. It was a combat-ready shirt, which meant I'd worn it several times before while fighting. It was on its last legs, and I was going to miss it.   
  
Two huge double doors graced the front of the warehouse. Not quite the quiet entrance I was looking for. Then I spotted the smaller door inset into the left one. "Perfect."   
  
I slipped up to the door, Raven covering my back, and began picking the lock. I could have used TK on it, moved the tumblers, or just turned the handle inside. That would have expended energy, though. More than I wanted to lose at this juncture. A few clicks and a muttered curse and we were in.   
  
Raven again covered my back as we slipped into the vast room. I could feel it was vast, even without seeing it. Things echoed. And then the motion sensors turned on the lights.   
  
We were blinded for an instant, both warily watching the shadows and blinking rapidly. And then we could see them.   
  
"Shit." My voice echoed in the room, sounding hollow and frightened.  
  
"Fucking hell." Raven's voice joined mine in echoing around us.  
  
They were huge. And there had to have been hundreds of them, the floor to the warehouse having disappeared to accommodate the creation of more. And more. "Sentinels," I whispered. "Bloody hell."   
  
#We're in,# Cable reported, suddenly. #What's the situation there?# He must have felt my shock.   
  
#Sentinels. Hundreds of them. Shit, I thought the govern -- oh. Duh. Watch your backs.# I turned to Raven. "We need to find the control center. Shut them down."   
  
"I think we're going to have to deal with *them* first."   
  
I blinked and looked towards where Raven was pointing and cursed. "Bloody..."   
  
Three Sentinels had activated and were beginning to stride towards us. "Intruders. Destroy."  
  
"Get into cover, I'll hold them off," I snapped, reaching for the gun I'd grabbed from the vast weapons locker in Nate's room. A few shots slammed into the first Sentinel and then I was moving, ducking and weaving away from the fire I'd drawn. #Nate! Maddie! There're activated sentinels. Watch your backs.#   
  
#Yes, mom,# Maddie replied dryly. #We're in, by the way.#  
  
#Good -- shit.# I threw myself into a diving roll and came up to fire a TK blast into the foremost Sentinel's power cells. The robot staggered and then collapsed as the power cells fractured like glass under the assault. I knew they weren't going to all be that easy. And more were awakening.   
  
"Raven, we've got to get to where McCoy is!" My cover disappeared under relentless strafing from the two and I backflipped to hide in an alcove next to the stairwell. I knew he was downstairs, I couldn't sense him -- not without dropping my shields more -- but I knew from the memories.   
  
Raven appeared next to me, gun in hand. "Down?"   
  
"Down." I turned and jumped down the first flight, Raven following. Behind us the Sentinels stopped firing and tried to follow. They wouldn't fit down the stairwell. Yet.  
  
#Ah. Sentinels. Toy men to knock down.# Maddie sounded like she was having fun.  
  
#TK blast to the power cells.# I shot the schematic to her. The one I'd picked from the impostor's memories. #This should help. Nate? How goes it?# We dropped through another level. Behind us, I could hear the sentinels ripping up the uppermost level of the stairwell.  
  
#Nothing, yet.#  
  
#Good.#  
  
We hit the bottom level and stopped. I took one side of the door, Raven the other. "Ready?"   
  
She nodded. I grinned and yanked open the door, throwing myself through and coming to a halt. Not quite the main control center, but close. Main corridor to it, and the cell we were heading to was off to our left. Raven glanced to the right.   
  
Indecision caught me for an instant, then I gave in to what was needed. The Sentinels needed to be shut down before we could make good our plans. McCoy could wait, he'd waited long enough as it was. "Control room. We've got to shut down the Sentinels." In a hazy back corner of my mind, I sort of knew what the Sentinels were going to be used for. And it needed to be stopped.  
  
"C'mon." I trotted down the corridor, the gun held loosely in my hands. It might not have worked against the robots very well, but against a human, it would be brill. I slowed just before the door to the control room and sent a few mental feelers into the room. Nothing. There was no human or mutant in there. Which didn't mean there weren't robots.   
  
Raven waved me on and I slid around the lip of the door, back to the wall. A quick glance showed nothing in the room that moved. A large viewscreen covered the farthest wall, while equipment dotted a few benches and the other walls equally. "Empty," I said. Not clear. I wasn't about to commit myself to that when I knew there might be something lurking.   
  
Robotic or human, it didn't matter. Raven slipped in behind me and glanced around. "Empty is right."   
  
I stared at some of the computer terminals, feeling an odd sense of deja vu -- the memories again, I think. "There, those are the ones that control the Sentinels." I walked over to them and set the gun on the console. Within easy reach, but not in the way as I began to type.  
  
"Access codes, access codes..." Something clicked in my mind and I was typing them in, adding the needed control codes. And then I sent all of the sentinels into self-destruct mode, delaying it for twenty minutes. Long enough for us to get out, I hoped.   
  
"Charges set," Raven reported, from the doorway. "Let's get McCoy."  
  
"Right." One last set of commands and we were out of the room.  
  
#The Sentinels just froze.# Maddie sounded disappointed.  
  
#Sorry. They're going into shutdown/self-destruct mode. Twenty minutes. Nate?#   
  
#Under heavy fire, at the moment. Some sort of mutant crew.#  
  
#Maddie get over and help him -- wait, send Logan down here.# I needed, suddenly, to get up to where Nate and Dom were. Something was going to happen, my precog senses were awakening, sending flashes of death, battle, blood. Someone would die, and soon.   
  
#He's on his way.#  
  
#Shit.# It was Dom down the link she and Nate shared. #That's Alex Summers.#  
  
"WHAT?" Raven looked at me oddly, and I shook my head, speeding up a bit. Maddie had echoed my yelp of shock.   
  
#Brainwashed, by the look of it,# Nate reported tersely.  
  
Another corner turned and three humans were training their guns on us. "Shit," I muttered.   
  
"Bloody--" Raven threw herself back around the corner.   
  
"Um, hi?" I dropped my gun and slowly raised my arms.   
  
"Gerry, pat her down. Don't move, lady." The one in charge gestured at me with his gun.   
  
They were sending one to pat me down? That was stupid. As soon as he got close enough, I whipped out a TK tendril and pulled him in front of me. A shield. My arms slipped around him while they were still gawking, and his gun fired, killing the two there. The one in my arms whimpered. "I'm sorry. But you knew who you were working for." His neck snapped with ease.   
  
"Raven?"   
  
She poked her head around the corner. "Done having fun? You never leave any for me," she complained, stepping around to join me.   
  
I riffled the pockets, looking for wallets and ID. Three minutes later, I pocketed what they had without looking at it. We'd sort it out later, after the big explosions.  
  
McCoy's cell was directly in front of us, now. I reached out and checked the door for booby traps. None. Opening it was the work of a second, and the door creaked inwards. I shoved it back flush with the wall and peered in.  
  
Slumped against the far wall was a man -- some might call him a beast -- his fur looked dull and unwashed and blue. "McCoy," I said softly.   
  
He didn't even stir. I knew it was a lie, though. He was awake and waiting. I sighed. "Don't play this game, man, we haven't the time. Rave, watch the corridor, there are a few more human guards running about."   
  
"Yes, boss," she replied dryly, as I stepped further into the cell.   
  
The apparatus installed into the ceiling dripped slowly onto the prisoner. The fluid looked like water, but I couldn't be sure. The cell stank of unwashed fur, a bit of wet dog and fear. The captive had been there for a long time -- at least three months. I sighed and inspected the manacles holding him in such an uncomfortable position.   
  
"I'm sorry this took so long." I reached out and carefully smoothed the hair back from his face. He looked old and bruised, under the fur. "You know," I said conversationally, as I began working on the manacles, "we met, once. You probably don't remember me."  
  
I smiled slightly and cursed under my breath. The manacles were going to take longer than I'd thought. There hadn't been keys on the guards, which meant the impostor must have had the keys in his lab. Somewhere.   
  
"It was about five years ago. Avengers Mansion." I slipped a hand around his neck and checked his pulse. Thready, but there. "You'd come to have a reunion of sorts with Cap and Iron Man."   
  
Raven's head popped back in. "Something's coming."   
  
"Sod." I stopped working on the left manacle and ran silently to crouch next to the doorway.   
  
Out in the corridor, whatever it was stopped for a second, then, "Suzy, quit hiding, I can smell both of you. And Hank."   
  
"Logan," I whispered softly, relaxing. "Get in here, old man, I can't keep up this tensing and relaxing shit much longer. My nerves can't take it."   
  
He chuckled and stepped into the cell, then froze. "Those manacles--"   
  
"Need to come off, yes." I was already moving to the wall again. "Watch the corridor."   
  
I stared at the manacles, then shrugged. "Sod this." TK tentacles slithered under the manacles, finding the weakest point and slipping into it. They shattered, a rain of little slivers of metal fell around us and I caught the man as he fell forward. "Ooof."   
  
Staggering a bit, I managed to get McCoy leaning against the wall, with me as support. "Raven, Logan, could you give us a hand here?" I croaked.   
  
They swiftly helped me hold him up. "We don't have time for him to be comatose." I dropped into a light trance and reached into his body. Healing energy flowed out of me and into him, soothing tired muscles, torn with a lack of vitamins and minerals.   
  
#Oh, GODS!# Maddie's mindvoice dragged me out of the trance and I swayed for a minute, scrambling to get my shields back up. An instant of chaos and then they snapped into place.   
  
#What?#   
  
#It's Dane.#   
  
#What about Dane?#   
  
#She's...# Maddie's voice trailed off and Nate's took over. He sounded hoarsely afraid. #She's dying.#   
  
#Not on MY watch,# I snarled back at them. "Raven, you know how to get out of here. Take Logan and Hank and GO. I have to hit the surface as fast as possible."   
  
"Why?"  
  
"Lorna just took a hit that might kill her."   
  
"Go," Logan barked at me. I didn't wait to hear any more, I turned and took off at a dead run for the stairs. #Betsy, get Connor and Buffy to the back area, they're in need of more cover. Lorna's down.#   
  
#I heard,# The ninja replied calmly. And then I ignored everything and threw myself up the stairs. Five flights to go.   
  
Dane wasn't a friend, I barely knew her. Four flights.   
  
I didn't even know if she thought Grey was full of it or not. Three flights.   
  
Hell, I didn't even know if she was going to turn around and betray me. Two flights.   
  
But I couldn't let her die. Not. On. My. Watch. One flight. I was panting as I cleared the top landing and dodged around the frozen sentinels. "The back, the back." A flash of gunfire sounded and I followed it. Across the factory floor, through a set of doors, and then I was barreling into a young woman. We fell over in a pile of arms and legs, both of us cursing.   
  
"Get off me, you fucking bitch."   
  
"Shut up, you bloody in the way bint." I threw myself into a roll that ended with me standing in front of the back door the little bitch had been covering. "I don't have time for this."   
  
"Wha--"   
  
My mind slipped around hers and I shut it off. "Sorry, Fatale, m'dear, you're an annoyance."   
  
I didn't wait, but dove out the door and took in the situation. Maddie was standing protectively over an unconscious blond man, while Cable yelled at her. Connor and Buffy were just now skidding around the corner, while Dom and some guy who kept shape-shifting were squared off. Betsy slithered into the scene and looked bored. And Remy was standing by a pile of rubble, holding someone's hand. At least, it could have been someone's hand. They were buried under the pile.  
  
Lorna, my mind catalogued. I felt sickened. Out of all of us, she was the one with the least kills on her life. The least stain. And she was the first one to have fallen. I ran towards them and dropped to my knees.   
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"She's still alive, Louisa."   
  
"I know." I said softly. But for how long? I didn't bother to vocalise that, just dropped into a light trance. #Betsy! I'm going to need you...#   
  
#On my way.#   
  
The rubble showed with a malignant green glow in front of me. I needed to move it before I could even get to Lorna. Why hadn't anyone else done it? Like Nate? I swore and deepened the trance, pulling on a few reserves. The dash up the stairs had cost me.   
  
For an instant, the rubble sat there, triumphant. And then it moved, hovering up and moving to the right. I checked what was there and smiled. "Dom, incoming!"   
  
The dark-haired merc blinked in shock as the rubble suddenly appeared and dropped onto her assailant.   
  
I turned back to Lorna and moaned softly. She looked like she'd been hit by a truck, or worse. A great force had shattered her ribs and then torn her open from sternum to navel. Intestine and other matter spilled out around her, and I could barely hear her breathing. That she was still alive was a miracle. If I was able to keep her intact until we reached the medical facilities of the X-Mansion, that would be another.   
  
First things first. I carefully set a hand to each side of her shattered ribs and began a network of TK tentacles. Weaving, I gradually slipped lower, pulling the contents of her stomach and abdomen back into place and putting a TK wall in front of them. Stay.   
  
Her breathing began stabilising as the shattered ribs pulled themselves back into place. I winced at the pain I was causing but there was no way to siphon the pain off without losing control of something.   
  
#Marya, I can block her pain receptors.# Betsy.   
  
I sent wordless thanks and then gratefully breathed easier as the pain lessened to a dull roar. TK held together the young woman in front of me. TK and my will power. It wasn't going to be enough. I reached into myself and tapped the healing energies again. I was going to sleep for a week after this, I decided, as the energy came and filled me, slipping into the woman in front of us.   
  
For an instant, the lattice-work of healing overlaid the TK net. And then the healing sank into the viscera of Lorna's body and began its work.   
  
As bones and skin reknit, I fed more and more power into the matrix. As I fed, I felt myself beginning to drain. My energy lessening. Fatigue would take me soon, but I didn't care. Lorna's life was NOT extinguishing. Not on MY watch.   
  
Betsy slipped deeper into my mind and began feeding me her own energy. I didn't even ask how she'd figured it out, just accepted the deep red currents and fed them to Lorna.   
  
#Marya...# Maddie's voice slipped into my thoughts. #We're at the surface. We have to leave. Two minutes before the charges go.#   
  
#Can't. Need to...stay stable.# I fought the exhaustion that was suddenly swamping me and checked Lorna's condition. The healing had reset her shattered ribs, and closed her abdomen off to the night air. But her body was still in shock.   
  
#She's movable,# Betsy pointed out calmly.   
  
"Yeah, but am I?" I reopened my eyes, still keeping a light trance so the TK net would stay wrapped around Lorna. "Someone's going to have to carry both of us."   
  
"I've got Marya." Connor slipped his arms under me and lifted. "Thank God you're a light 'un."   
  
"Yeah, they all say that," I managed, as Remy carefully picked Lorna up, trying not to break the link I was still holding. "You navigate and steer and stuff." I mumbled, falling back into a deeper trance to keep hold of Lorna's insides.   
  
I don't remember the hustle to the van, I do remember the explosion from behind us as the sentinels self-destructed and the charges took out the main control room and reactors.   
  
---   
  
The drive back to the mansion passed in a blur as I fought to stay conscious and keep Lorna stable. Oddly enough, I noted that the van was more crowded than it had been. We'd picked up two prisoners, the blond man and the young woman I'd knocked out. I had no idea what had happened to the amorphous shapeshifter.   
  
At some point, I think we dropped Buffy and Connor off -- neither needed to come back to the mansion, and it was a less crowded drive afterwards.   
  
It was literally a work in endurance to stay conscious. I could feel the time ebbing away at my control, and even Nate joining the link and lending strength wouldn't have been enough. Maddie joined the link and the rush of power was suddenly heady and intoxicating, and almost too much for my abused senses to channel. I did, though. And Lorna was stable when we pulled up in front of the mansion.   
  
#Can I pass out now?# Everything was reduced to motor functions and telepathy. Bed sounded very inviting.   
  
#Not quite yet,# Maddie replied softly, as people began to boil out of the mansion in response to Logan's knock.   
  
#Please, mum?# I wasn't above begging. Especially when the prospect of chatting with the looming figure of Jean Grey was imminent.   
  
Nate snorted at me, #Deal, Susanna.#   
  
#But I don't wanna,# I moaned pathetically. #Besides, I'm about to fall over if anyone moves me.#   
  
I suddenly realised something, as Lorna was carried into the mansion, Maddie following and keeping her stable, it was December 24th.   
  
"What the HELL did you DO?" Grey was now in front of me, yelling.   
  
"Oh, shut up, Grey. I brought back your Henry McCoy. Merry fucking Christmas." And I finally let go. The world went black as I spiraled downwards, noise going away and unconsciousness swamping me.   
  
---  
End Chapter Five  
  
=====  
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'  
  
__________________________________________________  
  
  
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga 


	6. Only a Fool's Here to Stay

*cough* So... I decided to cut the chapters in half (which I was doing, but this works better)   
Disclaimer thingie: Marvel owns the X-Men and all of their relatives. BBC/Lionheart own Doctor Who and Ms. Sam-Jones. Highlander is, iirc, owned by Rysher Entertainment. Buffy is owned by Joss Whedon (all hail the Master) and Fox/WB.   
  
That said, Marya is MINE. Touch her and die a horrible death (I'm specialising in nasty things through the eye, right now)   
  
Also. I've gotten some complaints on my treatment of Jean Grey. My apologies. But. You're going to have to wait. *innocent look* It will all be explained in the end.   
  
Second note: The end is a very LONG way off. Hang on for the ride.   
  
Third note: I've been told that the first five chapters will be online soon. My archivist is very slow. ~_~   
  
Dedication: To Lynxie, because she's half-co-plotter, or something. And because she wouldn't let me stop writing -.- To Acetal for betaing this monster, it ain't over yet, bub. To KayJay and Mitai and Alicia for the origin of the crazy idea. And to Tapestry for helping Lynxie kick me and get it finished.   
  
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga  
Chapter 6: Only a Fool's Here to Stay  
by Suzy DeZorga  
  
I didn't know what day it was, I didn't know the time. I was only vaguely certain that I was in a bed and covered in a blanket. But someone was trying to wake me up. Of that I was most definitely certain. Because said person was shaking me and threatening to deluge me in water if I didn't wake up this instant.   
  
"Bugger off, Maddie," I croaked. I felt like a house had fallen on me and then an earthquake had dropped me and the house into a tidal wave. I hurt. Battle nerves had woken me, though, and they refused to let me go until I answered the threat. Not that there was one.   
  
"I can't. Wake up, you stupid bitch, I need your help."   
  
One eye cracked open to glare up at her. "Bugger. Off." I paused and realised that Maddie was looking terribly worried. My foggy brain decided that was bad and began waking the rest of me up.   
  
If I'd thought it hurt before, now was worse. Nerves I'd only barely known existed flared into painful life and throbbed. Apparently, prolonged exposure to my patient had sent up sympathetic resonance in my body. Psychosomatically, I felt like my ribs had been shattered, my guts ripped out and my skull fractured.   
  
The pain must have shown on my face, because Maddie suddenly looked a little concerned. "Are you all right?"   
  
"Nothing a few moments of meditation won't clear. Or, failing that, a large breakfast." My stomach rumbled in sympathy at me.   
  
"Meditate, then," she snapped impatiently.   
  
"Give me a bloody moment," I mumbled, already beginning to drop into a light trance. For an instant, my brain didn't want to relax. Then it did, and I was awash in a sea of blue-green and silver net. My shields. I smiled slightly and found my own pain centers, slipping in and readjusting them. For a moment the phantom pain lingered, then it dissipated, leaving my own aching body behind. I sighed and tweaked the pain centers a bit tiredly.   
  
Euphoria, of a sort, washed over me. With a slight gasp, I came out of the trance. I lay there for a moment, fully waking up and remembering the events of the night before.   
  
"Awake now?"   
  
"Yeah." I looked at Maddie. Her eyes were surrounded by dark shadows and she looked as exhausted as I still felt. Maybe she hadn't been the channel for a ton of energy the night before, but she'd certainly helped.   
  
"What's up?" Staggering out of bed and scrounging for clothing with a visitor is not normal etiquette. Maddie had that urgent look about her, though. So I scrabbled for a t-shirt and a pair of jeans while she filled me in.   
  
"It's Alex. He's been brainwashed--programmed. And I can't break through it. They've got him in a holding cell...Stupid people."  
  
"Brainwashed." I stopped to pull my t-shirt over my head. 'Had enough of being undead? Let me stake you.' it read in blood-red on black. "I think I remember something about that from the memories we grabbed."   
  
"Yes, it's there--I found it, but..." She turned away from me. "Dammit, I fucking HATE feeling helpless."   
  
"Boots, boots," I mumbled, trying to figure out the best way to break the kid's conditioning. "One thing at a time..."   
  
"One thing?" She whirled and glared at me as I pulled on my footwear. "God, you're a cold bitch, Marya."   
  
"No," I replied after a moment of consideration, "a tired and ready to eat my boots one. Before we do anything, I'm going to have to eat breakfast. Something meaty and juicy--or a bunch of vitamins."   
  
"Food. I need your help and you want food."   
  
"Not want. Need. I depleted myself badly last night. If I don't eat nourishing stuff and replenish, I'll collapse into shock." I pondered for a moment. "In much the way I went to sleep when we got in."  
  
"Shock sleep."  
  
"Exactly." I stepped out my door and looked over my shoulder. "Coming? You can watch me devour a bunch of stuff."   
  
"God, I'm glad I don't have to eat," she muttered in reply.   
  
---  
  
The walk to the kitchen was uneventful, which meant we didn't run into any of the people that wanted my head on a platter. I wasn't sure who they all were, but I knew it included at least Grey. And, regretfully, Scott. Most likely, anyway.   
  
The kitchen was a bit more crowded than I was prepared for. Luckily, Betsy and Raven were there, too. Apparently, Excalibur had made it over from England sometime while we were off on our mission. They'd had to fight a demon before coming over. Nice to know we weren't the only ones fighting demons.   
  
I was too tired to do more than grunt in greeting before heading for the fridge to raid it. Behind me I could hear a buzz of conversation, but it didn't interest me. The fridge had nothing that didn't require some sort of preperation. Except for an apple, buried in the back. "Bloody 'ell," I mumbled. The apple lasted all of a minute as I wolfed it down.   
  
"Mare, I keep forgetting how fast you can eat," Raven commented dryly.   
  
"Like a good soldier," I heard Dom say, before a plate of eggs, bacon and cheese was shoved into my hands. "Eat."   
  
I didn't need any more prompting, just sat down and began shoveling the food in. It probably looked sick and gross but it was what I needed. And it wouldn't be enough. Coffee would be good, too.   
  
"Gods, Pete, that's almost as gross as watching you eat."   
  
"'S a higher art form, love."   
  
But I wasn't listening to the two team members of Excalibur. Instead, I was gazing with rapture at the nearest cup of coffee. The contents of the plate were in my stomach, now. And my body was happily buzzing for its caffeine fix. I gazed with mute appeal at Scott. He blinked and shrugged, then handed me his coffee.   
  
"Scott!" Grey squeaked indignantly at him, as I gratefully delved into the caffeine goodness.   
  
"She looked like she needed it, Jean." "But, but--"  
  
"Oh, stuff it, Grey." Raven set another plate down in front of me. "More?"  
  
I rubbed a hand over my eyes and nodded. The plate had a fruit salad and toast. I was betting it wasn't Raven's. The fruit tasted wonderful to my dry and parched throat (coffee does not hydration make). The toast was a little on the dry side, but I didn't care. I needed the nutrients it would provide.   
  
Dom handed me a glass of orange juice as I was wiping up the last of the salad. I downed it without even stopping.   
  
"You were hungry, weren't you?" Scott sounded almost worried about me.   
  
"Depleted my reserves last night," I mumbled, looking around for more. My body was quickly burning up the food recently dumped into it. I'd need some more in a few hours, but I was somewhat sated by now.   
  
"You look like death warmed over," someone else observed.   
  
I looked. It was someone I hadn't ben introduced to, yet. She was young, red-haired and felt...angry, in some way. I shrugged. "I feel worse. And, since apparently, everyone plans to not introduce me, I'm Marya DeZorga."   
  
"Mare," Raven pointed out calmly, "you never gave us a chance."   
  
Shrugging, I continued gazing steadily at the young woman in front of me. Trying to remember why she felt familiar.   
  
"Rachel Summers," she said, grudgingly. And that's when it clicked.   
  
I'd seen her in the Mother Askani's mind. Looking much as she did now, if a little younger. That, and the residual Phoenix Force I could sense in the child.   
  
The creation of the Phoenix Force is not well-known. Most people assume it was created when the universe was. Untrue. One of the Old Gods decided to have an interest in me. I think because I was travelling back and forth through time so much.  
  
His name was Loki, and when I first saw him, he was a lovely young man. I was, if I recall correctly, about seventy at the time. I hadn't been with a man in years, and Loki was an accomplished lover. Little did I know he'd decided to use me to create something.   
  
When I found out I was pregnant, I wasn't sure what to do. At the time, I didn't KNOW he was a God. Within a week, I was swollen as if I'd spent the last nine months carrying the child. I knew that was wrong, of course. So did the people around me. The village I was living in cast me out. And so, I wandered the moor, waiting for my lover to come back.   
  
By the time he did, our daughter was already physically four years old. She'd only been born four hours before. One hour per year, which was a bit frightening to me. Loki reassured me that it was normal. That our daughter was a prototype. Something he was contemplating making more of.   
  
I try not to think about the birth. I'd never had children before this, being an Immortal, I wasn't supposed to be fertile. Thank you, soup-genes. In any event, the birth had gone not too badly, and my daughter was gorgeous.   
  
She didn't stay mine for long. One of the wierd things about mixing my genes with Loki's was a child of incredible power. And will. She basically turned seventeen later that night, told us to go fuck ourselves and disappeared.   
  
Loki was not pleased, to say the least. Especially since she'd been HIS pawn. I was very proud of my daughter, though. Not many women have the balls to tell the Trickster God to fuck off.   
  
I did, though. Oddly enough, I never have seen him again, though I hear ocassional reports about him.   
  
The Phoenix, as my daughter chose to call herself, became one with the universe. At some point in time, she bonded with the M'Kraan crystal and became its Guardian. In more recent years, she had bonded with first Jean Grey (taking over Grey's life and cocooning her) and then Rachel Summers. And, in the future, she would bond with Meggan Askani.   
  
I'd learned all of the latter information from Meggan herself. Meggan had told me there were others bonded with the Phoenix, but hadn't deigned to tell me who. So, Rachel was familiar. And she was upset.   
  
Why, I wasn't sure, and I realised I didn't have time to get into it. Not at the moment, with Maddie suddenly grabbing my arm to drag me imperatively somewhere.   
  
"Maddie, wha--"   
  
#I need your help.#   
  
My tired brain tried to assimilate that it needed to use telepathy. #Okay.#   
  
I gave a tired wave and smile to the kitchen and we decamped for better climes. I hoped. Maddie dragged me along down many corridors--or it felt that way, anyway. Until we were near the Danger Room. I recognised it only by vague memories of the training session from days before.   
  
"Why?" I stopped short in the middle of the hall and resisted further towing by Maddie.   
  
She looked at me and sighed when she caught the implacable look in my eyes. "It's Alex."   
  
I waited for more.   
  
"We brought him back with us, and he's been brain-washed by that fucking scumbag, McCoy."   
  
"And you want me to break his programming."   
  
"I don't trust Chuckles; Grey, the stupid cow, wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole; and Braddock couldn't do it."   
  
"So I have to." I rubbed a weary hand over my eyes and straightened my shoulders. "Let's get this show on the road."  
  
She led me into the Danger Room, which was set up with little cubes as cells. Sabes was in one, sort of drooling, by the looks of him. In the second was a young woman with a Genoshan collar on. She glared at me. I stared impassively back at her. She had very short, dark hair, and a tatoo over one eye. She was SO not happy to be in her cage. and the collar probably chafed.   
  
In the third was our object. He was pacing fractiously, like a stallion that can smell a mare in heat. He had blond hair and was a slight bit shorter than Scott, but I knew they had to be brothers. He caught sight of us and snarled wordlessly.  
  
"I see he's very cordial." Something ocurred to me. "How's Lorna, by the way?"  
  
"In stable condition. Thanks to US." Maddie snorted. "Not that THEY gave a shit about that. OR about us bringing back Henry. All Grey cared about was telling everyone how horrible you are."  
  
#Am I correct in thinking that Alex had something to do with Lorna's condition?# It was something I'd been wondering, ever since I recalled that Summers' mutant power was plasma blasts of force. Lorna had looked like she'd been hit by a train.  
  
#Yes.# Maddie shrugged. #Fix him, then I'll explain?#   
  
I snickered. "Sure, Maddie, I always like making sure the people who hurt my allies are fixed." I looked in at Alex. "Hello."   
  
"Stupid bitch. You're like them, not letting me be myself!"   
  
"Whoa. Hyped up on the angsty anger, much."   
  
"So..." Maddie poked me in the side. "Can you?"   
  
"Yes." Looking over the situation, I decided on comfort, first and foremost. "Maddie, can you whip--ah." I walked to the side and came back with two chairs. "Here. Let's be comfortable. For once."   
  
I didn't wait for Maddie. Instead I dropped lightly into a trance and inspected my shields. They would need to be in top shape for this, since I didn't know how long it would take. And, my brain was so tired, I really hoped this went quick.   
  
#Maddie, keep watch, okay? It'd be really fucking bad if someone stopped me in the middle of this.#   
  
#Got it.#   
  
Silence for a time as I gathered myself. I'd deprogrammed others before. Cult members, mainly. I worked for a section of the FBI once, helped deprogram operatives that got caught and brain-washed. Of course, this wasn't going to be as easy as that. It'd been twenty years since then and the drugs available now made the job much harder.   
  
With a sigh, I reached out and slipped into the brain of the man in the box. For an instant I felt resistance. Then I was through the barrier and floating above his conscious mind. I could feel his surface thoughts. They weren't complimentary to the X-Men as a whole and Xavier and Scott in the near side.   
  
#Well, no time like the present.# With another breath I dove down into Alex's brain.   
  
Immediately I knew it was going to take careful precision to excise the programming and leave the lad's memories intact. What was it they say? Read-only? That would have to be the only way his memories would work. I sighed again. The programming was already deeply entrenched, too. It'd been in place for longer than three months.   
  
I frowned. It lay on top of a network of previous attempts, too. I wondered what would happen once I'd unraveled the true Alex Summers.   
  
---  
End Chaper Six   
  
=====  
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'  
  
__________________________________________________  
  
  
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga 


	7. Two Left Feet

Disclaimer thingie: Marvel owns the X-Men and all of their relatives. BBC/Lionheart own Doctor Who and Ms. Sam-Jones. Highlander is, iirc, owned by Rysher Entertainment. Buffy is owned by Joss Whedon (all hail the Master) and Fox/WB. X-Files is owned by Chris Carter, Gargoyles by Disney. (I think that covers--oh.) And, Anita Blake and Edward belong to Laurell K. Hamilton. Well, not my versions, but...   
Marya, OTOH, belongs to me. And, in the words of JHim Smith, "If I discover any of you jabronis using Marya, I will take your little fanfic, spellcheck it real nice, save it in .txt format, turn that sumbitch sideways, and stick it STRAIGHT UP YOUR CANDY-ASS!"   
  
PG13/R for swearing and some nastiness.   
  
Dedication: To Lynxie, because she's half-co-plotter, or something. And because she wouldn't let me stop writing -.- To Acetal for betaing this monster, it ain't over yet, bub. To KayJay and Mitai and Alicia for the origin of the crazy idea. And to Tapestry for helping Lynxie kick me and get it finished.   
  
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga  
Chapter Seven: Two Left Feet  
by Suzy DeZorga  
  
By the time I'd unraveled the matrix'd brain of Alexander Daniel Summers, it was nearly sunset. Seven hours to defrag a brain. And usually only half an hour to defrag a good hard drive. Why didn't I hang out with more computers?   
  
Maddie was sort of hovering as I opened my eyes and began breathing normally. "Well?"   
  
"He's sleeping."   
  
"I can SEE that, bitch. Did you fix him?"   
  
Thoughts of neutering Alex, so there wouldn't be another generation of Summers gave me pause. "Er..." I coughed and cleared my throat. "Yes. It'll be a bit, but I think he'll be fine. I also made his brain fairly tamper proof. Poor lad's had everyone and their Uncle in there mucking about."   
  
"Good. How soon before he wakes up?"   
  
"I don't know--no, really. I sent him into a natural sleep, it might be tonight, it might not be 'till morning." I rubbed the back of my neck, wincing. "Either way, I'm dead on my feet and could REALLY use something to eat."   
  
"Again." She snorted and hauled me out of my chair. "C'mon."   
  
"Thanks, Mum," I mumbled meekly, as she dragged me back up and down myriad corridors to the kitchen.   
  
---   
  
The kitchen was yet again packed and crowded as we entered. Luckily, food was a little more readily apparent. Pizza boxes covered every available flat surface, and bottles of soda dotted the spots that were empty. People were also sprawled on every available surface, munching away industriously.   
  
"Fooooood," I mumbled, staring. And not just any food. Ambrosia. Pizza. The next few minutes were a blur as I pounced the nearest box, checked it wasn't mushroom pizza and began devouring it.   
  
"Like I said earlier, Pete, 's worse than watching you eat."   
  
The voice drifted into my conscious field of hearing and I blinked. I'd heard that before, hadn't I? I looked up at the young woman who was talking and finally got a good look at the young man she leaned against. "Peter Paul Wisdom, as I live and breath," I mumbled, through a mouthful of pizza.   
  
"And eat," he supplied, helpfully.  
  
I chuckled in spite of myself. Another mouthful swallowed, and I felt civil enough to ask for introductions. "So, Wisdom, I see they caught you, too."   
  
"Nah, I caught him." The girl at his side smiled at me, "Kitty Pryde."  
  
I nearly laughed. I should have known the computer programmer I'd 'met' would end up being intelligent enough to snag Pete. "Marya DeZorga."   
  
She nodded at me, "Since you missed the rest of the introductions earlier, the rest of the crew are, Kurt Wagner, Piotr Rasputin, Rahne Sinclair, Moira McTaggert, Amanda Sefton, and Douglock."   
  
I nodded politely to each of the introductees. McTaggert had her nose buried in a mug of thick black oily stuff. "Coffee..." my mind supplied. Coffee which would provide that precious caffeine. The caffeine that would replenish a bit more of my energy.   
  
"God, Dez, I'd forgotten what a one-track mind you have." Dom was glaring at me as I finished drinking the last of her coffee.  
  
"Sorry." I didn't sound sorry. Hard to, when you're eyeing that next cup and it happens to belong to Nathan Dayspring Summers.   
  
Who was glaring at me much harder than Dom was. "Don't even think it, Susanna."   
  
"Damn." I was going to have to actually pour my own cup.   
  
"Gotten soft in your old age, Dez?"   
  
"No, Dom, just tired." I yawned to prove my point and then sipped the cup of coffee I'd poured.   
  
Something suddenly occurred to me, acting on auto-pilot as I was. "Maddie..."   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"Do you mind if I chase after Scott?" My only excuse was the extreme exhaustion gripping me. That, and I hadn't had a good lay in a long while.   
  
Maddie, to give her credit, took it in her stride and smiled slightly. "Not really. We were over long before I died, you know. In fact, I'll even try to make sure the divorce gets finalised."   
  
Around us, several unnamed people were snickering. I merely nodded. "Thanks."   
  
"WHAT?" Grey. Grey was in the kitchen, I realised. Shit. "Madelyne Pryor, you bitch, you wouldn't step down for ME."   
  
"That, Grey, is because you're a whiny 'Ho."   
  
"You--you," Jean spluttered, and whirled to me, looking suddenly very angry. "You stupid bitch. You've done it, you've wrapped them all around your little finger, and you're getting away with it. Know what? I know you're a fake and a lie!"  
  
I blinked at her, swaying slightly. "Did you have a point?" Forced politeness was the refuge of the deeply fatigued.   
  
"You think you've won. But you haven't, oh, no, just watch, Ms Marya Louisa Susanna DeZorga! You've not won yet!" And with those words, Grey swept out of the kitchen.   
  
It would have been a lovely exit if she hadn't collided with Bishop on her way out. The tall man caught her shoulders and attempted to steady her. She shrugged him off with a growl and continued stalking out.   
  
"I know I mentioned this before, but...Is she normally a steel-hardened bitch with a persecution complex?" I rubbed a thumb between my eyes, trying to alleviate the sudden ache there.   
  
Several people coughed, a few snickered, but it was Bishop who shook his head at me. "She is...very upset over something."   
  
"Really? Well, knock me over with a daisy. *I'm* tired. And exhausted. And sort of upset, because I really think you should all be kissing my ankles or something, because I saved your precious McCoy from certain death, AND Lorna, AND I just deprogrammed Alex. And, Gods-dammit, I'm the Mother of the Phoenix, and..." I trailed off and coughed. "And, um, I'm kinda tired and stuff."   
  
"Tired. Yeah, you just might be." Kitty Pryde smirked at me. Obviously, I was coming off as a buffoon. I think I was, too.  
  
A hand passed over my eyes. "Maddie? Someone? Can I go to bed now?"   
  
"That might be a good idea," Dom said dryly.   
  
"I'll take you up." Betsy nodded to the others and reached for my arm as I swayed slightly.   
  
"Thanks."   
  
Neither of us talked and Braddock melted away as soon as I reached my door. That was fine with me, I was ready to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.   
  
Unfortunately for me, there was a call on my cell phone. It was one of those new-fangled ones that had messages and stuff. Although, it was slightly higher tech. For instance, the calls couldn't be monitored. And, it had a number that could be called from anywhere, with no charges accrued.   
  
There were two messages on it. One from Buffy, mentioning that she was going patrolling that night if I wanted to tag along. And, the second from a friend of mine in the FBI. "Marya, I don't know what the HELL you were trying to do last night, but it would be really NICE if you'd try NOT to get caught in the public eye next time."   
  
And that was it. I sat on the edge of my bed, pondering why the hell Krycek would be yelling at me for destroying an old warehouse. Especially one that had been a sentinel factory...  
  
I sighed and dialed. His answering machine picked up. "Krycek, I'm not available at the moment. Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you."   
  
"Alex, it's Marya. What did you mean? I spent last night destroying a sentinel factory. You'd think your superiors would be happy about that. Call me in the morning, I'm about to collapse."   
  
I hung up and stared at the phone for a moment, before dialing again. It rang twice. "Detective Maza."   
  
"Hey, 'Lisa. It's Marya."   
  
"'Rya." A pause, "Can I call you back in ten?"   
  
"Sure." Elisa's request puzzled me slightly, but I shrugged and hung up, waiting.   
  
To get into pyjamas or stay in street clothes? That was the question that occupied my tired brain as I set the phone down. Pyjamas, my mind decided. I was too bloody tired to do any good going out anywhere. If the world needed to be saved, I was not the person to do it.   
  
At least, at the moment, I wasn't.   
  
---  
  
Elisa was good on her word. Ten minutes later as I was curled up in bed reading a Regency romance that someone had left in my room. I was assuming it was a previous occupant's. Could've been an anonymous gift, though. My phone beeped and I picked it up. "DeZorga."   
  
"'Rya, I've been talking to, um, a friend." Sounds in the background indicated that Elisa was driving. I wasn't sure where.   
  
"And?" I prompted, when the silence went on too long.   
  
"He said...You're not going to believe this, but, he said that some of the Old Ones are back."   
  
I was too tired to wait her out. "Old Ones?"   
  
"Yes. He didn't elaborate, though." She stopped to yell out the window at someone. Something about cutting her off, then nearly forcing her into a wall. "Anyway," she continued, "I know you're sort of into that whole witchcraft/history thing, and, so..." her voice trailed off again, as she tried to come up with something more to say.   
  
"Can I speak with your informant?" Bed was looking more and more inviting.   
  
"My informant? Um...Sure. I'll have to set up an interview time, and there might be restrictions and stuff, but--I can do that."   
  
"Thanks, 'Lisa. Look, I'm about dead on my feet. Can we talk more in the morning?"   
  
"Sure." She sounded relieved. "I'll call you when I get off my shift, okay? Bye!" She didn't wait for a reply, just hung up.   
  
I sat there staring at the deadened phone and sighed. "Oh, I know there's a deity up there, somewhere. There has to be," I muttered, reaching out and flipping off the light. "After all, it's the only reason my life is such a mess... Right?"   
  
---   
  
Blood filled the air around me, scenting it wonderfully. Blood, blood, glorious blood. I revelled in it, drinking it in deeply and bathing in it. Mine to hold, mine to conquor, mine to destroy. I laughed.   
  
The copper tang wrapped around me, filling my nose with its exotic bouquet. Wondrous. Life was mine, and I took it.   
  
Something felt wrong, suddenly. And I was frightened. Life was ending too quickly, too fast, too much. I was overwhelmed.   
  
Children were screaming, fire burning them to cinders. Fire, fire everywhere, licking hungrily, happily at them. While all I could do was stand and watch and do nothing.   
  
I think I screamed myself awake.   
  
Could be wrong, though, since no one came to see what the disturbance was. I lay there, gasping for my breath, revelling in my life. In the life I had now, and would have. The life I'd had.   
  
Life was good. Until my shoulders, back and neck began complaining at their treatment as I tossed and turned in the grip of my dreams. My legs ached, too as if I'd run a thousand miles to get away from him.   
  
Him? Him who?   
  
My phone rang. I scrabbled for it, shaking the last vestiges of sleep off in the dawn light streaming through my window. "H'lo?"   
  
"Hi. I don't know who you are, or why my daughter had your number, but...Do you know where she is?"   
  
The voice was male and worried. Daughter? I didn't know any--Buffy. "Sir? Who are you?"   
  
"Who am I? I should think you'd answer that, young lady!" He hung up.  
  
I blinked at the phone stupidly and waited. It rang within a minute. "I'm sorry. I'm Thomas Summers. My daughter, Buffy, she had your phone number written down in her address book. There was a star and a 'call in case of emergencies' note."   
  
"Mr Summers, I'm Marya DeZorga, why don't you start from the beginning. Where is your daughter?"   
  
"That's just it. I don't know. She...I asked the door man, he said she'd snuck out again last night--again!" I could hear the pain in his voice, a sudden ripping feeling that she hadn't trusted him enough to tell him she was going out. "She hasn't come back yet."  
  
A sick feeling was growing in my stomach. Buffy had gone out last night--to patrol. On Christmas Eve. Shit. It wasn't special or anything, but she'd gone alone. Fuck. It was Christmas Day, and she should have been back. "I should have gone with her," I whispered, guilt sliding over me.   
  
"What?"   
  
He was still on the line. "Sir." I caught my breath and straightened. "Sir, I haven't seen your daughter for five days. I'd suggest you phone the police, and find out from the door man if she was headed in any direction. I'll be in town as soon as I can make it. We'll find her. Bye."   
  
I hung up before he could ask more questions and turned the phone onto vibrate. It was dawn, and I still felt exceedingly tired. Buffy was captured. Not dead, I'd know if she was. One of the few perks of being a Slayer is knowing when a fellow Slayer has passed on. Over the years, I'd felt the deaths of hundreds of Slayers.   
  
With Buffy, I'd feel it even more, considering we were close. She wasn't conscious, either, I quickly discovered as I tried to scan for her down the vague Slayer-link. Which meant she was being held by someone who knew what she was. Which meant I had until sun-down to find her. "Shit."   
  
---   
  
I was going to need help. Again. I hated asking for help from people I'd only just met, but a friend was in danger.   
  
Who could I count on? Dom, Nate, Raven, Maddie and Pete. The others, like Pryde and Braddock, would follow along to protect their friends. That was fine with me. I had a really bad feeling about things. Especially my fun little nightmare. Children burning. I hated things like that.   
  
---  
End Chapter Seven  
  
=====  
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'  
  
__________________________________________________  
  
  
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga 


	8. That's Life and I'm Panicked

Disclaimer thingie: Marvel owns the X-Men and all of their relatives. BBC/Lionheart own Doctor Who and Ms. Sam-Jones. Highlander is, iirc, owned by Rysher Entertainment. Buffy is owned by Joss Whedon (all hail the Master) and Fox/WB. X-Files is owned by Chris Carter, Gargoyles by Disney. (I think that covers--oh.) And, Anita Blake and Edward belong to Laurell K. Hamilton. Well, not my versions, but...   
Marya, OTOH, belongs to me. And, in the words of Jim Smith, "If I discover any of you jabronis using Marya, I will take your little fanfic, spellcheck it real nice, save it in .txt format, turn that sumbitch sideways, and stick it STRAIGHT UP YOUR CANDY-ASS!"   
  
PG13/R for swearing and some nastiness.   
  
Dedication: To Lynxie, because she's half-co-plotter, or something. And because she wouldn't let me stop writing -.- To Acetal for betaing this monster, it ain't over yet, bub. To KayJay and Mitai and Alicia for the origin of the crazy idea. And to Tapestry for helping Lynxie kick me and get it finished. Well, as finished as it ever is. I refuse to write 500 chapters.   
  
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga  
Chapter Eight: That's Life and I'm Panicked  
by Suzy DeZorga  
  
The kitchen was actually deserted, this early in the morning. Since the sun was barely up, I knew people would be in soon enough. Hopefully, Dom and Nate would be among the first. I knew Dom hated mornings as much as I did, but she'd long ago resigned herself to being up with Nate when HE got up and consumed mass quantities of coffee.   
  
Coffee. That sounded like a very good idea. So good that I started making it. I found myself investigating several cupboards in the kitchen before I finally found the filters right below the coffee maker. And the coffee in the refridgerator. That was fine, I was feeling domestic.   
  
Along the way, I'd discovered the mugs and bowls. A drawer held silverware, and I was home free.   
  
Most mercenaries have an instinct for when that first pot is being made. Dom was no different. Neither was Nate, but he wasn't the one who sauntered into the kitchen as I was pouring my first cup. "Mornin' Dom."   
  
"Dez."   
  
As she poured her own cup, I leaned against the counter and pondered how best to ask.   
  
"Dez, just spit it out."   
  
"I never spit," I said indignantly.   
  
She snickered. "You're dancing around the issue, Dez. Talk."  
  
"Buffy's gone missing." I stared into my coffee, wishing I could conjure the Slayer from its depths.   
  
"When?"   
  
"Last night."   
  
Dom was silent for a moment. "How many people will you need?"   
  
"Not sure." I sighed. "I had some rather visual nightmares this morning. I'm terrified they apply to her."   
  
"Oh?" Her eyebrow arched at me.   
  
"Blood, lots of death, children." I frowned. "Fire, too. Vamps are frightened of fire, though."   
  
"Vamps?"   
  
I coughed and sipped my coffee, embarrassed. Most didn't know about vampires, most people wanted to believe they didn't exist. Most people did not spend half their lives destroying vampires, demons and their ilk. Hell, I imagine even the vaunted X-Men would run screaming if they ever encountered a spider demon or a vampire.   
  
"Um, vampires." I waited for the inevitable 'Vampires don't exist' comment.   
  
It never came. "We have until sundown, then?"   
  
"Yeah," I sighed, glad she wasn't going to question me sanity. "I think so, anyway. There might be a specific reason they took her. Some ritual requiring Slayer blood." I frowned. "It couldn't be tied into the Solstice, that's already passed."   
  
"New Year's? The New Millennium?" Dom snorted. "Or just an old-fashioned blood ritual?"   
  
"Yes." My brain tried to process this date for any special mystic things. And there weren't any. "I'm calling a friend..."   
  
"And who do you want me to wake up?"   
  
"Betsy? Rave, Maddie..." My phone rang, interrupting the list. "DeZorga."   
  
"Why the hell didn't you tell me what was in that warehouse?"   
  
The tense and very European sounding voice startled me. I blinked. "Connor?"   
  
"You've been asleep all day," he guessed, sounding suddenly weary. "Turn on your local news feeds." The phone went dead.   
  
I stared at the phone, then looked at Dom. "What have I missed while sleeping?"   
  
She shrugged. "We took out a government-owned factory. The press are having a field day. And, no, they don't know what was there."   
  
"Shit."   
  
Government-owned meant they'd KNOWN what was there. Maybe not everyone, but..."Dom, I'll have to make some calls later." Right now, the first priority was finding Buffy. "Can you...Get everyone in the Mansion you trust and who *doesn't* hate me in here in about an hour?"   
  
"Dez, I'm not your messenger."   
  
"Please?"   
  
"Sure, sure..." She rolled her eyes and left the kitchen. "The things I do..."   
  
I sighed and began dialing.   
  
---   
  
The first time I met Connor, he was a heathen-looking young man, all brash and brawny, ready to do battle with everyone. Of course, I'd met Ramirez first.   
  
My first death came at about age 22. I was still quite young, at least. I'd been in Guinevere's court for a while, training with the guards (much to many people's horror.) We were invaded by a small group of very voracious bandits.   
  
I managed to kill quite a few of them, then one of my own guards stumbled into me, and I was gutted by my next opponent before I could recover.   
  
I'm told the ceremony was quite lovely. All pomp and circumstance and the Queen crying over me. The last makes me laugh my ass off, since Guin and I merely tolerated each other. Her crying was probably disguised happiness that I was finally gone.   
  
When I awoke, it was with a suddenness that brought pain to every inch of me and forced me to gasp for breath in a very unladylike way. At the time, I was trying to perfect that most beloved thing, so I was a bit upset.   
  
They had lain me out in an ante-chamber, in preparation to burying me in the chapel cemetary. I wasn't rich enough, or well-known enough, to rate a place in the crypt. Good thing, too. Hate to think what would have happened if I'd been locked in there.   
  
I know I scared the guard out on the Keep out of his wits. Not that he had much of them. I was glad I ran into no others on my way to my quarters. I knew something was terribly wrong, especially when I walked in to find one of Guin's other ladies occupying my rooms.   
  
She screamed, I smacked her across the face, accidentally knocking her into the wall. It was definitely an "Oops." moment.   
  
Alianora had been using my things, so I packed a few, grabbed my boots--which were still there, oddly--and hustled down to the armoury, where I found my usual sword and grabbed a few extra daggers. I slipped out of the castle the same way I'd entered it nearly five years before. By the servants' entrance.   
  
I spent the next week relearning how to live on the road, and detesting it mightily. And then I felt it. It was like when I'd first felt a multitude of other people's minds. Meggan had helped me build my shields, and she'd also forced me to build them while open to everything.   
  
Which basically means, I felt like someone was inside my head, beating me.   
  
And, of course, thanks to Fate, this was the moment a man burst from the trees and challenged me.   
  
"I am Juan Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez, en garde." He said.   
  
"Um..." I pulled my sword and fought the pain in my head down to a bearable level. "I'm Marya Louisa Susanna DeZorga, once one of the Queen's Ladies."   
  
"But you died. And you will again." His lips smiled at me and then he drove in.   
  
We fought for a good long while, our swords clashing on each other, sometimes catching. He was good. Better than I was, at the time. After a good fifteen minutes of tussling, he disarmed me and prepared to give me the coup de grace.   
  
I really wasn't in the mood to die again so soon, so I shrugged and slammed a TK tendril at the sword, batting it away. "Could you maybe point that somewhere else? I'm really not in the mood to be beheaded."   
  
He blinked. "You're very young, for an Immortal, I might almost believe..." His voice trailed off and he studied me. "You're newly Immortal, aren't you?"   
  
"Um...Yeah? That is, I guess I would be--if I knew what the hell an Immortal was." I hadn't missed the capital I in that word.   
  
"An Immortal is what we are." He looked me up and down and seemed to come to a conclusion. "And it seems I am sent to teach such a beautiful woman."   
  
I sighed. "None of your Spanish coin, m'dear."   
  
He snorted, but explained it. How we were destined to fight each other to the last--there can be only one, apparently. And then he taught me everything he knew about sword-play. And a few other things.   
  
We parted company good friends, if not allies. We had been lovers. We wouldn't be again.   
  
In the early sixteen hundreds, I was a bar maid in lower Sussex. It was sort of boring, sort of not. The vampire population kept me on my toes, though, so it was good.   
  
One night as I was patrolling, I felt another Immortal. I challenged him, he accepted. And we fought. I disarmed him and was preparing to finish him when I froze. His sword had fallen into a patch of moonlight. It glittered up at me, taunting, reminding.   
  
"Ram..." My voice choked. I'd known he would die, eventually. He wasn't me, he didn't have Immortality and sheer bitchiness built into his framework. He was also an honourable man--and several would take advantage of that. "Where did you get that sword?"   
  
He looked up at me, glaring down at him in the darkness, sword poised to chop his head off. "You're going to kill me, anyway."   
  
I swore and pulled back the sword, then stopped and sheathed it. "You're wrong." I bent over and picked up Ramirez' sword. "Where did you get this?" I whipped around and glared at him. "And don't lie."   
  
"My teacher," he replied hollowly.   
  
"Funny, when he finished teaching me I didn't kill him." I laughed bitterly. "Times have changed, I see."   
  
"I didn't kill him."   
  
"Oh, no? Then why do you have his sword?" I turned it over, memories long dormant springing back. Of Ram laughing with me, loving with me, cheering me on as I fought my first battle. Holding me after my first Quickening.   
  
"He died. He was my teacher, and I accepted his death and his sword." Ragged emotion suddenly showed in his voice.   
  
"Who killed him?"   
  
"The Kurgan."   
  
I stiffened. I'd heard of the Kurgan. The Watcher's Council--Slayer, not Immortal--knew of him and considered him part-demon. He'd killed three Slayers in recent history. Which meant... "When?"   
  
He looked at me dully, then stood. "Not that long ago."   
  
"Where?" My last question was a whisper.   
  
"Scotland."   
  
"Thank you." I handed him the sword back, hilt first. "If we meet again, I'll try not to kill you."   
  
"Thank you," he said dryly.   
  
I shrugged. "Goodbye, Connor McLeod of the Clan McLeod."   
  
"Until we meet again, Marya Susanna DeZorga."   
  
Four years later, I finally tracked the Kurgan to Russia where he was ruling a small duchy with an iron hand. And much death, destruction and mutilation.   
  
"Hello."   
  
"Well, aren't we the enterprising one." He smirked as he looked at me.   
  
"Nah, more luck than anything."   
  
"You've come to challenge me, have you?" The sword he held in his hands was nearly five feet long. Almost as tall as I was.   
  
"No."   
  
"Really?" He looked surprised for a moment. "I'm shocked, that's usually what you peasants try to do."   
  
"Actually," I pulled my sword, inspecting the blade for lint, "I've come to kill you."   
  
The fight went on for fifteen minutes, the guards in his throne room watching us impassively. Strike, parry, counter, dodge, backflip and then drive back in, trying for an advantage. Neither of us had the upper hand, though we both got in slices and hits.   
  
We were evenly matched, to his surprise. And he was over-confident that I'd tire sooner than he. I didn't. I'd made sure to sleep well and meditate all morning. My energy levels were at a peak, and I wasn't going to let him get the best of me.   
  
And then the unthinkable happened--for him, anyway--our swords locked, and I heaved, sending his flipping into the far corners of the room.   
  
For an instant, he was startled, then moving back, away from me. "Oh, no you don't, asshole."   
  
"I will not die by your hand, Immortal bitch."   
  
"Not Immortal," I corrected, snapping a foot into his groin. "Slayer."   
  
He froze in shock, his eyes widening as he ignored the pain in his groin. It was the same facial expression that stayed on his head as it fell to the floor, severed.   
  
Silence fell in the room. My arms prickled, and I knew this wasn't going to be a fun Quickening. The guards started forward, and I whirled, blasting a TK shot at them. "GET OUT!"   
  
They ran, shocked and frightened, as lightning and energy began filling the room. My body buckled, and I fell, hitting the ground, screaming as pain ripped through me. The Kurgan had been one of the strongest, powerful and evil.   
  
His psyche attempted to overwhelm me as the power poured through me. I fought back, pulling deep from my center, where the Askani teachings had flourished and enlightened. And healed, sometimes. The memory traces of Meggan and Sanctity joined me and fought back. The Quickenings of my previous kills helped as well.   
  
And then I felt him. For an instant, all went still, then Ramirez was slipping through me, destroying the evil of the Kurgan and taking his own self with it.   
  
It was over in seconds, and I curled into a ball, weeping softly.   
  
Later, I ran into Connor again--several times, in fact. We even became lovers one wild and memorable weekend in 18th century Paris.   
  
---   
  
"Edward, you bastard, pick up. I know you're there."   
  
A click, then a tired voice, "Yes?"   
  
"Edward, I need a favour."   
  
"Oh, it's you." A sigh. "DeZorga, the last time I did a favour for you, it nearly killed me."   
  
"Yes, I know and I'm sorry about that." I rubbed my hand over my face and sighed. "Look, just do this one thing for me, okay?"   
  
"Oh? What?"   
  
"I need you to get onto Mulder and his partner. Get them interested in finding sentinel factories. Then feed them the news from earlier."   
  
"You mean the government warehouse that you destroyed?"   
  
"Yes, yes." I didn't need to ask how Edward knew that was me. Man was amazing and knew just about everything that went on in New York. "See if you can't get them into exposing the government conspiracy--I know how much Mulder likes that sort of thing."   
  
I heard him sigh and then curse. "You do realise they're already there, don't you?"   
  
"They are? Good." I paused. "Wait a minute, you sound less than pleased about it."   
  
"Mulder is convinced it was aliens."   
  
I groaned. "It wasn't."   
  
"I know that and you know that. I'll try to hint him to exposing the contents." Edward sighed. "The things I do for you, DeZorga."   
  
"Hey, you wouldn't do them if you didn't know I was right." I smiled. "Give Maura a hello for me, will ya?"   
  
"Sure."   
  
"Oh! Edward, what do you know about holy days or celebrations around this time of year?"   
  
He was silent for a moment, then snorted. "DeZorga? Christmas? Christ-child? End of the Century with the 31st? Ring any bells?"   
  
"Thank you, Edward, I do know what today is." I replied dryly. Although, in actuality, I'd forgotten. Sort of.   
  
"Right, then." There was a click and the dial tone rang through.   
  
"Good-bye, Edward," I muttered. "Christmas..."   
  
I snorted. "Great. And I keep forgetting about it."   
  
---   
  
It came to me as I was yelling at an old editor friend in England, that it was still only five in the morning, American time. Which would explain Edward sounding pissy. And Connor, too. Neither of them were morning people.   
  
The call finished pretty quickly, and I dialed California, wincing at the time it would be there. Three hour time difference meant two in the morning, which meant disgruntled Watcher.   
  
I got Giles' machine. "Hey, it's Marya. Giles, I need you to look up old myths surrounding Christmas, New Year's and the Millennium. Oh, and vampire convergences. Thanks." I hung up and dialed another number.   
  
Willow picked it up on the third ring. "H'lo?"   
  
"Will, it's Marya."   
  
"Wha?"   
  
"Marya. Sweetie, when did you go to bed?"   
  
"'rya, it's 2:20 in the morning." Willow was sounding more awake.   
  
"20 minutes ago, then?" I snorted, Will had gotten to bed later than I had. "Dear, grab some coffee."   
  
"You know I--"   
  
"Hate coffee. Tea, then. Will, I need you to cross-reference a bunch of stuff for me. Stuff like the birth of Christ, holy days in December, Vampire myths, the millennium, and, um..."   
  
"You're nuts."   
  
"Buffy was kidnapped this morning by vampires."   
  
"I'm on it." I heard a rustling sound. "Now, what was the list again?"   
  
---   
  
Only I would receive a kidnapped friend for Christmas. Of course, I had to find her, first. Dom was true to her word, and my begging, and had nearly every person in the X-Family gathered in the kitchen by the time an hour had passed. It was six in the morning, and most of them looked very unhappy about it.   
  
"Dez, as requested...." Dom smirked and waved at the large crowd. "Everyone who I think doesn't hate you."   
  
It was easier to say who wasn't there. I blinked. Xavier, Grey, McTaggert and Scott were all getting to sleep in. Lorna was down in the infirmary, recovering. "Well... Um... well...."   
  
As my voice trailed off, someone snickered. Tabitha, my brain identified. The blonde hadn't given me an inch when we met and she still wasn't. Not that I blamed her. I was an unknown. Still... "The reason I had you woken up so early wasn't because it's Christmas. A friend of mine was kidnapped last night--most likely by," I paused and coughed, "vampires."   
  
The best way to get people to believe you is tell the truth. Even if it's more farfetched than Hell. I shuddered. I really hoped Hell wasn't going to be involved. I'd gotten a really nasty sunburn there the last time. And I don't burn, normally. That damned perfect skin, again.   
  
People blinked and then everyone started talking at once. I let them go, formulating what else I needed to say. After all, none of them--save a few--knew Buffy. Just because they were vaunted teams didn't mean they'd immediately care about some girl they'd never met. Cynicism is rife in my world view.   
  
Before everyone had gotten to the point of silence, a group of teenagers entered the kitchen and stopped. The room was large, but with everyone there it was VERY crowded. The kids made it worse. Behind them, I could see a vaguely familiar-looking man and Emma Frost.   
  
"What're all of you doing?" A young girl with an Asian cast to her features stared at us. She turned her brown-eyed gaze to me. "And who are you?"   
  
"Marya DeZorga." I dodged around her and pounced the familiar-looking man. "Sean Cassidy, as I live and breath."   
  
"Ach, Marya!" He blinked at me and returned the hug. "I haven't seen ye in more'n ten years..."   
  
"And, lemme guess, I don't look a day over twenty," I winked.   
  
"Susanna, when was Buffy taken?"   
  
Nate's voice broke my through me attempt to hide behind Sean and I looked at him. "Last night. I'm not sure when." I stepped back to the center of the room and met everyone's eyes "I'm guessing we have until roughly midnight tonight. If I'm right they're going to use her as a sacrifice."   
  
I shuddered. "Slayer blood is incredibly powerful. For all I know, they're--"   
  
My phone rang. "DeZorga."   
  
"There's a full moon tonight, and it's the millennial anniversary of the closing off of the New York Hellmouth."   
  
I staggered and caught myself against a chair. "Will, are you sure?" Precognitive flashes that wreak havoc with your extremities is a wonderful way to look like a spastic.   
  
"Duh." The redheaded witch snorted at me through the phone. "I checked the records on the 'Net and ran a cross-check through some old histories I 'borrowed' from Giles. It's all there."   
  
"Anything else?"   
  
"There was some Legend of Ohmara, which centered around a demon destroying the manger Jesus was born in."   
  
"How...Odd." My eyebrow arched. The Ring of Ohmara was the vampire equivalent of the Holy Grail. Interesting that there would be a legend associated with it. "Talked to Giles yet?"   
  
"Nope. On my way over to kick his butt. He should be doing some of this, too." She sounded a bit annoyed.   
  
"Will? Make sure you corral Xander into helping."   
  
"Got it."   
  
We hung up without goodbyes. An old friend in the midwest had gotten me into that habit and I was passing it on to everyone I knew.   
  
A Hellmouth in New York. That put a whole new spin on things. I glanced up to see Emma watching me intently. "Hey, Emma, I'd forgotten you were roped into a babysitting gig after the coma."   
  
"Susanna...Shut up and explain." The ice-blonde Ms. Emma Frost crossed her arms and glared at me. "Who is Buffy and why would she have been kidnapped?"   
  
"She's--" And that was when I remembered what was niggling at the back of my head. "Limbo," I breathed, my eyes widening in shock.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Well," I said grimly, "what better way to commemorate the Millennium than by opening portals to Limbo and Hell and combining both on Earth?"   
  
End Chapter Eight.   
  
=====  
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'  
  
__________________________________________________  
  
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga 


	9. All This Time Spent Waiting

Disclaimer thingie: Marvel owns the X-Men and all of their relatives. BBC/Lionheart own Doctor Who and Ms. Sam-Jones. Highlander is, iirc, owned by Rysher Entertainment. Buffy is owned by Joss Whedon (all hail the Master) and Fox/WB. X-Files is owned by Chris Carter, Gargoyles by Disney. (I think that covers--oh.) And, Anita Blake and Edward belong to Laurell K. Hamilton. Well, not my versions, but...   
Marya, OTOH, belongs to me. And, in the words of Jim Smith, "If I discover any of you jabronis using Marya, I will take your little fanfic, spellcheck it real nice, save it in .txt format, turn that sumbitch sideways, and stick it STRAIGHT UP YOUR CANDY-ASS!"   
  
PG13/R for swearing and some nastiness.   
  
Dedication: To Lynxie, because she's half-co-plotter, or something. And because she wouldn't let me stop writing -.- To Acetal for betaing this monster, it ain't over yet, bub. To KayJay and Mitai and Alicia for the origin of the crazy idea. And to Tapestry for helping Lynxie kick me and get it finished. Well, as finished as it ever is. I refuse to write 500 chapters.  
  
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga  
Chapter Nine: All This Time Spent Waiting  
by Suzy DeZorga   
  
The phone rang again before anyone could ask another question. It was Giles, who had not only just gotten up, but also had no info for me.   
  
I refrained from swearing, remembering that he had a bunch of musty books to go through, while Willow had the 'Net. "Giles, Willow's on her way over. Please, could you pull up anything you know on Ohmara, Legend of?"   
  
"I can, yes. The Ring should be all I'll find, but--"   
  
"Thanks. Call you in two hours." I hung up before he could ask more. I knew I was asking a lot with the late hour for him, but we needed information and we needed it yesterday.   
  
"Suzy, this is the little Slayer we met the other night, isn't it?" Logan was chomping on an unlit cigar, since the house rules were that there be no smoking inside.   
  
I nodded. "You got it. She called to invite me patrolling last night, but..." I looked away, then. I felt incredibly guilty. Buffy had been kidnapped, and I hadn't been there to stop it. I shook my head, trying to ignore the feeling so I could think clearly.   
  
The phone rang again. And, while it was nice to get a good response from my information-gatherers, this was getting to be really, really annoying. I contemplated getting rid of the phone as I answered, "DeZorga."   
  
"'Rya, I'm--" Elisa Maza stopped and yawned. "Sorry. Anyway, I'm heading home from my shift. I got a meeting with one of the friends I was telling you about. Can you meet him at my place, about five this evening?"   
  
Nine hours away. By then, I might have found Buffy. "Sure. 'Lisa, go to sleep, silly woman."   
  
"Yeah." She yawned again and hung up.   
  
"Dammit." I glared at the dial-toning phone.   
  
"Marya?" Storm was looking at me, apparently unsure as to whether I was sane or not. I raised an eyebrow at her. "You called us here to ask our help in finding your friend. Why don't we get on with that?"   
  
Much as I hated to admit it, the Weather Goddess had a point. "Yeah. Do you guys mind being used as a search and rescue squad--several, since I'd like to field four to five teams, if I could...That is, if you'd all not mind...Helping." I stopped fighting for words and looked at them.   
  
Someone snickered. Tabitha, I'd bet. Or, one of Emma's kids. Gods, the lot of them were young. "And, while you are all deciding on that, I'm off to get dressed." I grimaced at the robe I was still wrapped in. "I need my boots," I muttered.   
  
---   
  
Nervously pacing a very tiny room is not good for my health. Nervously pacing when no one is talking to you is even worse. Especially when you know what you need to hear. And, "Sorry, we can't," isn't it. Especially when I was being REALLY good and not even 'pathing with Nate.   
  
During the pacing, the phone rang again. It was Alex, this time. "Finally. Alex, what the hell are the government doing?"   
  
"Trying to fry your ass for nearly exposing their top secret sentinel factory." He snorted. "Like you didn't know that. Edward called me. Did you have to drag Mulder into it?"   
  
"Yes," I laughed. "Stupid ass, I crack warehouses all the time, ya know? Not." I sighed, feeling a bit of hysteria ripple through me. "A friend of mine has been kidnapped. Sorry."   
  
His voice sharpened. "One of those that helped--never mind, I can guess the answer. Look, I'll--"   
  
"Not by the government."   
  
For almost two minutes there was complete silence. Then he sighed. "I hate you."   
  
"Sorry."  
  
"I'll see what supernatural contacts there are in New York and get back to you--is there anyone else I can contact, maybe in some official capacity?"   
  
"Yeah. Elisa Maza. She's a Detective for the NYPD." My back twinged, impatient to be out searching. "She's got the night shift, so you'll have to catch her at home."   
  
I gave him Elisa's number, then the one for the X-Mansion--can never be too careful about how many numbers you give out. The more they have, the easier they can find you.  
  
"Thanks, Alex. I owe you."   
  
"Yes, you bloody well do." He hung up.   
  
Alex Krycek was a member of one of those super-secret government conspiracy type organisations. He hated it and tended to abuse his contacts as much as possible--especially when it helped me.  
  
It suddenly occurred to me that I ought to call Buffy's father. The man had been over-worried when I'd talked to him.   
  
The front desk of the hotel gave me his room. He answered midway through the first ring. "Summers."   
  
"Mr Summers, it's Marya DeZorga."   
  
"Have you heard anything from my daughter? The police won't help--she hasn't been gone for twenty-four hours. And--"   
  
I cut off his babbling. "Mr. Summers, I'm about to organise a group of friends and do some searching. Buffy will be fine. I promise." And then I hung up before he could ask more questions.   
  
Considering the promise I had just made, I cursed at the NYPD. In twenty-four hours, Buffy Summers would be dead. I was going to have to find her, and fast.   
  
I hated breaking a promise.   
  
---   
  
I decided to finally ditch my robe and get dressed (especially since that had been my excuse for running away from the kitchen discussion). The t-shirt I dug out had, "My body is a temple. Get on your knees and worship," printed in white across the front. It was, of course, black. Black fake leather pants slipped on my legs. Fake leather doesn't do nasty things like stick and chafe--especially when you're doing a lot of fighting. Aside from which, these were velvet-lined, so I wasn't going to freeze my ass off.   
  
#Mare, you finally done primping?#   
  
Raven, via Maddie. #Yeah.#   
  
#Get your ass down here.#   
  
#Yes, ma'am.#   
  
As I walked back down the halls to the kitchen, I tried to divide the group up. Emma needed to stay at the mansion. As would Moira, I was sure. Lorna was out for the count. I wondered, suddenly, if Alex Summers would be up to helping us.   
  
Dom stepped around the corner in front of me and snorted. "Dez, you realise the enormity of this search, right? New York city is a huge place."   
  
"I know," I replied grimly. "I also know that if I don't find her by midnight, the world is going to end." I gestured towards the kitchen. "Is it safe?"   
  
"Yeah." She caught my arm as I started to go by. "I hope you know a lot of us just put a lot of trust on the line in there."   
  
I looked at her and sighed. "I know. I'm sorry."   
  
"You're an unknown to nearly all of them. And those of us that do know you aren't exactly sterling examples ourselves."   
  
"Yes." I grinned. "But you're all pure gold when needed."   
  
She groaned at the pun and let me go. "Get in there. And may you get what you deserve."   
  
"Yes, ma'am."   
  
"And it isn't Scott," she hissed, as I opened the door.   
  
I shot a glance over my shoulder, to catch her laughing eyes. "That remains to be seen."   
  
Ever since Dom and I had drunk GW under the table, we'd been good friends. As I stepped into the suddenly silent kitchen, I reflected how good friends were. And how much Buffy meant to me. She wasn't just the Slayer--I'd known others through the years. She was special. She was... Buffy.   
  
The kitchen was less full than it had been, I estimated about half the people had left. Didn't want to be involved, I guessed sardonically. Automatically, my arms crossed over my chest and I leaned a hip against the nearest counter. "Well?"   
  
"We have decided," Storm said. The Weather Goddess looked relaxed and serene, as if she wouldn't be rattled even if a tree came crashing through the window and upended her mug of tea.  
  
"Yes, I'd gotten that part." I replied, "But what did you decide? Buffy isn't getting found any faster you know."   
  
The white-haired woman looked at me, and for an instant there was impatience in her gaze. "We have decided to help you."   
  
"How generous of you. When can we leave?"   
  
"I've sent the kids off to get dressed, and get Artie and Leech ready to go ice skating," Emma replied coolly. She was making another pot of coffee. With all the coffee drinkers in the house, I wondered how long the large can in the cupboard would last. A day? Two?   
  
"Ice skating?"   
  
"Yes, so we have an excuse," Dom said dryly from behind me.   
  
"Indeed." The blue-furred Henry McCoy looked up from his breakfast. "An excuse will be needed to facilitate our leaving this abode for the city."   
  
I blinked. He looked more awake than the last time I'd seen him. "Good morning, sir. I do hope you're feeling well."   
  
"I am, thank you." He grinned toothily at me. "I must also thank you for the rescue. It was well-timed."   
  
"It was needed." I shrugged. "Besides, I got to blow something up. I'm happy." I turned to accept the cup Maddie was handing me. "Thanks."   
  
"Ms. DeZorga, I also wanted to let you know--I do remember meeting you."   
  
My lips smiled, I think my eyes probably still looked terribly worried. "Thank you."   
  
The door swung open to reveal two of Emma's kids. A blonde girl and a dark-haired young man. Both looked sort of rebellious. "Ms Frost?" the girl asked.   
  
"Yes, Paige?"   
  
"Jono and I are staying here."   
  
Emma looked at her and nodded slightly. "I thought you might."   
  
Paige looked slightly crestfallen, as if she'd expected Emma to argue. "Okay."   
  
It suddenly occurred to me that having a large amount of teams in field required something extra. "Y'know, once I finish breakfast, I'd like to get all the telepaths in circle."   
  
"A circle?" Paige looked at me. "And who are you, anyway?"   
  
"Marya DeZorga," I replied absently, putting a large amount of sugar in my coffee. I liked my coffee black, but sugar was essential. Breakfast would be good, too.   
  
"Paige Guthrie and Jonothon Starsmore."   
  
"Nice to meet you."   
  
#'Allo.#   
  
I cocked my head and stared at the young man, finally realising there was something odd about him. From his nose to about the middle of his chest, he was swathed in black wrappings. Behind the wrappings, I could suddenly sense a vast amount of psionic energy. #Hallo.#   
  
"So, are the bandages a fad that I'm not aware of, or is there a use for them?" I turned away to pull out a plate. It was time to rummage in the fridge again.   
  
"The bandages are camouflage to keep most people from noticing."   
  
"Noticing what?" I looked up, inspecting the boy critically, "That he's a vast store of psionic energy? That, apparently, his face is gone? Really, Emma, it's not as if I've never seen worse."   
  
#It's me power.#   
  
"Caught that part." The fridge was fairly sparse, but it also contained a pizza box. Mmm. Pizza. "Anyway," I pulled the box out and set it on the counter, "a circle is just a way of establishing a mental link to one, or more, telepaths. Useful when sending a bunch into the field."   
  
The pizza had no mushrooms, luckily. I couldn't stand the things. It was consumed in short order, washed down with half a pot of coffee.   
  
People had begun trickling back as I munched my way through the second slice. Chatter went on around me as everyone joked and got prepared to go play in New York. It was Christmas, and except for a few people, all was right with the world.   
  
I wondered if I should feel guilty for dragging all of them into this mess. I decided not.   
  
Maddie wandered over as I finished the last piece. "A circle?"   
  
She'd changed into a body suit of some sort, black and a hint of green here and there. It looked nice.   
  
"Yeah. It'll give the telepaths more stability." I downed the last of my coffee and straightened. "Right. If all the telepaths could sort of gather 'round me?"   
  
A purple head bobbed up in the crowd and Betsy made her way over to us. Emma followed her, bringing along a dark-skinned young woman. I glanced at Nate to see him sighing imperceptibly and joining us. Which left the redheaded Rachel Summers. She looked at us and shrugged, then stepped up to stand next to Nate.   
  
For an instant, I sensed a kinship between them and blinked. Nathan Summers, Rachel Summers...And Scott was both their father. Maddie was Nate's mum. I wondered, suddenly, who Rachel's mother was.   
  
"This is going to be a very simple, very light connection between us." I held out my hands and loosened my shields slightly. "Just a light, continuous touch. Okay?"   
  
Maddie gently took my left hand and reached out herself to me. For an instant, there was resistance as our shields fought, then with an almost audible snap, the link was forged. #H'lo.#   
  
#*snort*#   
  
On my other side, Emma reached out a hand and quickly the link popped into place. Her mind was quite cool and composed, as opposed to Maddie's which had movement and passion. Emma's passion was cold and controlled. For an instant, the three-way link wavered, then it stabilised as Nate reached out and joined it. Since we'd been in close contact previously, Nate, Maddie and I meshed well. Emma coolly wove into our nets.   
  
"Next, please?" I asked, a little breathless at the oddly heady rush having three telepaths tapped into my brain gave me.   
  
Next was Emma's protege, Monet St. Croix. Her mind slipped in, coolly contemptuous, while at the same time vulnerable. We were five. And then Betsy joined, her mind already familiar to me.   
  
Finally, Rachel reached out and caught Nate's hand. She didn't so much slip in as ram in, nearly upsetting the balance. #Control, child!# Emma snapped.   
  
#Sor-ry.# The power dimmed down and the links were perfect.   
  
#Oh, hush. Emma, you're definitely not one to talk.# Not that Emma wanted to remember the first time we'd ever linked minds. She'd tried to absorb me, almost. We'd ended up unconscious, my defenses fighting her back. I opened my eyes, surprised to realise I'd closed them, and looked around at the others. Our hands were joined, symbolic of our joined minds. Or some shit like that.   
  
#Well, now at least we can all yell at each other over distances.# I grinned and spoke out loud. "Lovely people, just lovely. Emma," I turned to her as we all dropped hands, some feeling slightly embarrassed. "I know you're lovely at being sneaky, but be extra-sneaky, okay?"   
  
She snorted at me. "I'm not hip enough to say duh, Susanna."   
  
"But you're thinking it," I replied, with a grin, then turned to everyone. "All right, people. Let's get this road on the show."   
  
And that was that. Everyone exited the Mansion and piled into Blackbirds and Midnight Runners and we all happily flew to New York. I wish.   
  
As it was, Leech nearly shattered the circle, Artie forgot his gloves, Jubilee accidentally set fire to Bobby's coat... And so on and so on. We got to New York city, only by a great act of Goddess--me, mainly.   
  
Rachel and I were the only two telepaths unaffected by Leech. Which meant I went with Excalibur in the Midnight Runner. Thank Gods. I heard Hanson in the background on the Blackbird. Pete wasn't stupid, he popped in an old Pet Shop Boys cd for me.   
  
We hit New York as Neil was describing his sinful schoolboy days. "They didn't quite succeed!" I sang along with him. "For everything I've learned to do--"   
  
The radio interrupted us as Storm called over from the Blackbird. "We're landing in Central Park, full cloaking on."   
  
"Roger that," Kitty Pryde responded. It suddenly occurred to me that I liked Ms Pryde. A lot. I'd watched her with Pete, noticed the way they almost seemed two parts of a whole. They were good for each other. I nodded to myself decisively and slipped over to sit next to Pete who was going through maps of downtown.   
  
"Hey."   
  
"Bugger off." Pete was obviously feeling the loss of his cigs as the No Smoking sign that governed the Midnight Runner precluded his destroying his lungs more.   
  
"One thing. I like Kitty. You fuck this up, Wisdom, and I will kick your ass from here to Hell, back, and then out to Mars. Got it?"   
  
He blinked up at me, maps momentarily forgotten. "Fuck off."   
  
"None of my bloody business, is it?" I smiled sweetly. "Doesn't matter." I patted his head as condescendingly as I could, then turned back to my seat on the other side of the cabin.   
  
Rachel Summers stood in my way, her eyes sort of laughing at me. I decided it was time to ask that all-important question. "So tell me, who does your hair?"   
  
"What?" She blinked at me, then snickered. "The Phoenix Force used to. Now I do it myself."   
  
The Phoenix Force. My nominal daughter. My only living Childe. I blinked. "The Phoenix was your mother, wasn't it."   
  
"Sort of. My mother and father were from a different timeline. Scott Summers and the Phoenix embodied in Jean Grey. So, yeah, mom was the Phoenix."   
  
"Cool." Wow. I had a grandchild. The mind boggled.   
  
"We're landed." Kitty called. "Everyone up and prepare to disembark."   
  
"Smooth landing." I smiled. "Very smooth."   
  
End Chapter Nine  
  
=====  
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'  
  
__________________________________________________  
  
  
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga 


	10. Faded Silver Blue

Disclaimer: Ah, hell. If you haven't memorised it by now, it doesn't matter. Suffice it to say, I don't own any of them except Marya. Leave her be.   
A couple notes: I think I misnamed Buffy's father, previously. As I realised (thank you, Lynx!) his name is Hank. Gee, there are a lot them. Second, yeah, yeah, magick is WRONG. Bite me. Finally, after this chapter, it REALLY gets wierd...   
  
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga  
Chapter Ten: Faded Silver Blue  
by Suzy DeZorga   
  
New York is a northern city, prone to tall buildings that funnel wind like well-designed wind-tunnels. Which meant that it was really cold when we exited the conveyances. I was really glad I'd chosen my velvet-lined pants.   
  
It occurred to me as Artie and Leech left the Midnight Runner, that I really ought to have someone watch the two of them. Especially Leech. That lovely talent of his could easily get us all killed if he was about at the wrong moment.   
  
I glanced around and caught Ray's arm. "Back in five."   
  
"What?"   
  
"Leech!" I didn't answer the girl as I caught the kid's arm. "Leech, you and Artie and I are taking a short trip where you're going to meet a really nifty guy. And he'll watch you."   
  
Artie looked up at me and a bubble appeared, with toys in it.   
  
"Leech and Artie want to know if toys will be there?" Leech told me gravely, as we three slipped around the side of the Runner. We were quickly out of sight of everyone.   
  
"There will." I grinned and reached up to activate the tiny microchip receiver in my temple. "Computer, body-slide three people to Avengers' Mansion."   
  
"Confirmed," the tinny voice of my shipboard computer replied. The Central Park area winked out from around us, replaced immediately by the front steps of Avenger's Mansion.   
  
It didn't look all that different from when I'd been there last. The windows were still shiny and clean, the door still closed with the little brass knocker in the shape of a stylised A. I knocked with it.   
  
The door swung open to reveal Jarvis, standing calmly, prepared to tell me politely to piss off. "Good morning, I'm afraid--Miss Marya!"   
  
Jarvis was the only man I would ever allow to call me miss. "Hiya, Jarvis." I stepped up and hugged him. "Been a while. Sorry I haven't visited." I gestured at the boys. "These are two friends of mine, Leech and Artie. Artie unfortunately can't talk, but Leech does enough for both."   
  
"Well, Happy Christmas." He stepped back from me and smiled. "You look just as you did when you left--although a bit more tired. When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?"   
  
I laughed and backed up to the door, shoving Leech and Artie in front of me. "We'll have to talk later. Must dash and, um--"   
  
"Jarvis, who's at the door?" A tousled blond headed man wandered into the foyer and blinked at us blearily.   
  
"Steve." I nodded to Captain America, then Jarvis. "Jarvis, please watch these two, I've something to do, talk to you later. Nice seeing you 'gain, Steve." And I was out the door, running before either could get a word in edgewise.   
  
Later, I knew I'd feel bad about dumping the kids on Jarvis like that, but I was not waiting around to 'chat' with Steve. Not if they paid me a million dollars. We had not parted on the best of terms. In fact, Steve Rogers was my reason for leaving the Avengers three years ago.   
  
I stopped at the end of the block. "Computer, body-slide one to Central Park location previously left."   
  
"Confirmed." The block dissolved just as I spotted a young man who looked vaguely familiar trudging towards me. Oops. Hope he hadn't noticed me. Central Park recoalesced around me. On the other side of the Runner, I could hear people arguing. Probably over who got to carry the flashlights.   
  
"Hey, guys?" I popped back around the Runner. "I think we ought to try to..." I paused and looked at them. They'd all agreed to wear street clothes. Thank the gods. Even with the street clothes it wasn't difficult to recognise a group of people who meant business.   
  
"Relax, maybe? I'm sure the police are not going to be suspicious of a large group of freaks," Maddie said caustically.   
  
"That was going to be one suggestion. My other was that we divide into teams." I grinned. "One telepath to a team."   
  
They all blinked at me, then Kurt Wagner coughed and smiled at me, "The lady has an idea." Currently, he looked like a black-haired pale version of his normal blue furry self.   
  
"I suggest we stay as our normal teams," Storm said calmly. "Betsy can be our telepath."   
  
"How many trackers do we have?" I looked around. "Logan, I know. Who else?"   
  
"Rahne and Caliban," Nate replied.   
  
"And Kyle," Forge added. He had gathered his team of Wildchild and Raven. Lorna was still recovering in the Mansion's medlab. "We could use a telepath, though."   
  
He was looking at me, but it was Maddie who answered him. "I can handle that." She stepped towards him, the blond man next to her following.   
  
I blinked. When the hell had Alex Summers been released? Must have been some point during my exhausted sleep. Forge was giving the man an uncertain look. Considering the fact that our boy Alex had been the cause of Lorna's condition, there was reason enough for Forge to be uncertain of him. It suddenly hit me that all of the teams *had* their own telepaths. Which meant, in a way, that I could sort of maverick myself around.   
  
We'd left Emma in charge, back at the Mansion. She had Bishop for company, as well as Grey, Scott, Xavier and her two kids. And Lorna, who was recuperating under Moira's watchful eyes.   
  
Nearly everyone had turned out to help me find Buffy. I was impressed and began to wonder if I should revise my opinion of most humans. Nah.   
  
I stared at the large group and sighed. There was no way we were going to look inconspicuous. At all. So, plan B. "Hey, everyone. Stay in your teams and follow me. Be on the lookout for...anything odd."   
  
Logan caught my arm as I started walking towards the edge of the park. "You think this is the reason the vampires're around?"   
  
"Yup." I strode off with him keeping stride. The others spread out behind us, chattering amongst themselves. That was good. Maybe we looked like just an innocent group of conventioneers. Looking back at Nate and Dom, though, I knew it was impossible. Too many of us looked on edge, ready for anything.   
  
"Think you can get everyone to sort of...hang back while I talk to the doorman and Mr. Summers?"   
  
"Yer gonna talk to her dad?"   
  
"Seems only fair." I shrugged. "He doesn't know, but he might...I don't know, I feel the need to reassure him."   
  
"And to find out if he's able to handle that his daughter is the Slayer?"   
  
I snorted. "Her mum was. Why not her da?"   
  
"No comment."   
  
"Yeah. Ah, here we are." I stopped half a block from the hotel and turned to Storm, the nearest team leader. "Storm, can you keep everyone sort of...back here, hanging around?"   
  
"Certainly, Marya." The Weather Goddess had a ghost of a smile on her face, "After all, we wouldn't want to be noticed, now would we?"   
  
I coughed. "No. That would be...difficult to cover up--especially since I'm given to understand some of you are wanted."   
  
"Indeed." She nodded. "We will wait."   
  
Which meant I'd been given my marching orders. Go interrogate the bellhop and hotel staff. I grinned, "Yes'm."   
  
---   
  
It wasn't exactly a lobby, more a vestibule. The concierge desk was across from a large bank of glass-in elevators.   
  
The desk clerk looked up at me haughtily. "Yes?"   
  
I guess they didn't get too many leather-clad women with long multi-coloured hair and black boots with a three-inch heel. Then again, maybe they did. Of course, it might've been the shirt, too. "My body is a temple. Get on your knees and worship" is sort of a strong statement to men. It chalenges their masculinity. On the other hand, the desk clerk was female. "Hi, I'm here to meet Hank Summers. Could you call up to his room and let him know I'm here?"   
  
"And you are?" The clerk--Marian was the name on her tag--didn't even so much as type in Summers' name into her desk computer as she looked superciliously at me.   
  
"Marya DeZorga." I smiled sweetly. "And you can either call and tell him that, or I talk to your manager."   
  
She looked at me, "Whatever." She was brunette and brown-eyed. Her figure was fairly average and I was taller than her.   
  
My smile was sweet. "Your manager. Or call. Your choice."   
  
Defeat slumped her shoulders slightly, and she typed the name into the computer. A beep and then she was dialing the phone on her right. "Sorry to disturb you, Mr Summers, this is the front desk. You have a visitor, a--"   
  
"Marya DeZorga," I supplied again, calmly.   
  
"Marya DeZorga. Yes, that's what she said. All right, I'll--" She blinked and looked at me. "He hung up."   
  
"And, is he coming down here?"   
  
"No, he said to send you up." She sighed, "Room 2048."   
  
"Thank you." I smiled politely. "Hon, a note of advice. Don't judge a book by its cover." I scarpered for the elevator bay before she could reply. The elevators were seperated. The ones to the right of the semi-circle covered the first half of the building. The ones to the left, were where I was headed.   
  
The elevators were those gold-doored affairs that had patterned carpeting and a glass window that let you watch as you went up, up, up. Gold plated the handrails and control panel, too. It was nice, in a puking red and pink everywhere sort of way.   
  
The button for the twentieth floor was in the middle of about fifty others. By the time I found it, we were at the twentieth floor. The doors opened on a plushly carpeted round room. the elevators repeating their earlier pattern of a semi-circle, although the doors for the 'vators opposite me were missing. In their place was glass.   
  
As I stepped onto the main hallway, there was a sudden opening of my perceptions. I blinked. Apparently, the hotel was one of those open-air affairs on the inside. Plants adorned the tiny railing, and below me I could see the paneled flooring of the lobby level.   
  
Blue, green and yellow clashed and swirled psychadelically under my feet as I walked to the left, following the signs that indicated the room I needed was that way. A few dark brown woody-looking accents set everything off...perfectly.   
  
2048 was midway down, I paused and then knocked.   
  
"Just a moment!" a voice called from inside. He sounded nearly the same as he had on the phone, if not a little more agitated. I wasn't surprised. His daughter had been missing for nearly eight hours. And he had no idea how much danger she could be in. In my opinion, rape and robbery were the least of the Slayer's worries.   
  
The door swung inward to reveal a tall man in his forties. Blond-brown hair covered his head, his blue eyes were ringed with dark circles--worry, was my guess. "Ms DeZorga? You're..."   
  
"Not what you were expecting," I guessed calmly.   
  
"No." He shook his head, "For some reason, I expected something--more...British."   
  
I blinked. "I could be, if'n ye loike," I replied, in my best bad Brit/Scotch/Welsh mumble.   
  
He blinked at me, his eyes registering something other than worry. Confusion. I liked that in a man. "Really, sir. I've lived all over the world. Not many accents I can't pull off." And was *that* ever useful when going undercover. I was also a language wiz, but that was beside the point. I winked. "I don't do tweed."   
  
"Ah. Well, come in, I expect you want all the details again?" He stepped back and ushered me into a room that looked much like the hall--grandiose and eye-blinding. No wonder Buffy had tried to spend most of her nights here patrolling. "She left about midnight last night, according to the doorman. I didn't even know she'd gone."   
  
He shook his head and paced agitatedly. "He said she headed toward downtown."   
  
"Downtown?" I shrugged. "Been there. Seen worse places in L.A. Anything else--had you argued or anything?"   
  
"No!" he answered sharply, turning away to look out the window. The view wasn't all that interesting, seeing as how it looked onto the brick wall of the building next to this. "No..."   
  
"What did you disagree about?"   
  
"Nothing, really, it was so stupid." He sighed. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."   
  
"Because it might help me find your daughter."   
  
"If she doesn't just come waltzing back in the next hour," he muttered.   
  
"She won't," I said softly. "I wish she would. Then I wouldn't be frightened for her like this." And I was. If my suppositions were correct, a large band of vampires was in town to open the New York Hellmouth and Limbo, combining the two in a horrible conflagration that would destroy the world.   
  
"You're frightened?" Mr Summers began pacing again. "My daughter is out there, remembering that the last thing I told her was that I was damned amazed her mother was able to put up with her! And you're frightened for her?"   
  
He seemed to wilt, suddenly. "I feel like a fraud as a parent, Ms DeZorga."   
  
I shook my head. "You're not. You're just a human being, you're allowed to feel hate, anger, remorse..." I felt uncomfortable, suddenly. "Sir, if you've no more information, I've got to get going."   
  
"Thank you." He leaned by the window again. "There's nothing, really. The doorman's name is Bruce. He should be on duty still."   
  
"Good--oh, Mr Summers, if I could have something of Buffy's--something she'd touched--maybe a shirt? We've got some bloodhounds." I smiled. "I've got some friends, one of whom is psychic; she might be able to follow Buffy's mind imprint."   
  
Actually, with Buffy still unconscious, not even *I* could find her telepathically. Well, I could, but I really didn't feel like taking the risks that would create. After all, a rogue telepath/empath/kinetic loose on New York city with no conscience? We're talking the Dark Phoenix I'd heard about from Meggan Askani. But about twenty times worse.   
  
Although, the trackers might be able to find her. It was frustrating, really. Mr Summers had nodded and left the room. He came back carrying one of Buffy's shirts. "Will this work?"   
  
"Yes. Thank you." I turned to go, then stopped and looked at him. "Mr Summers. We will find her. Never doubt that." If I had to let myself go, we would find her before they succeeded. I just hoped it wouldn't come to that.   
  
"I hope so."   
  
"Do make sure to call that contact of mine--or me--if you hear anything."   
  
"I will."   
  
---   
  
Bruce was just getting off-duty when I approached him. "Good morning."   
  
He blinked at me, then grinned, "Hey, I remember you. You was with the blonde chippie the other night--that kid that went missing."   
  
"Yes. Buffy Summers. A good friend of mine."   
  
"Good friend?" He snorted at me. "You was the one helpin' her to run away."   
  
Great. A man who thought he knew everything. "Look, Brucie, I'm tired, my friend is in more than mortal danger and I need to know--" I stopped and smiled sweetly. "Which direction did she go in last night, and did anyone follow her?"   
  
I think the smile must have cowed him--or Marian had told him I was a hardnose. Either way, he quickly told me what he'd told Mr S. And he also told me that Buffy had been shadowed. "I'm not to sure who it was--they were all in black--leathery trench coat. Or..." He looked embarrassed, "This may sound weird..."   
  
"Nothing will sound weird. Go on."   
  
"They looked like folded leathery wings--black. I don't know if it was male or female, but I didn't like the look of it--nearly called after the girl, but..."   
  
Oh, if only he had. My eyes closed for a moment before he saw the scorn and smouldering rage there. "Thank you," I replied calmly, opening my eyes and nodding. "I'll see you later. Must go now."   
  
I turned and left the building, Buffy's white shirt clutched in my white-knuckled grip. Control. I fought for it, a towering rage spreading through me. He had...let her be followed. By what was probably a demon. I decided it would be a REAL good idea to get out of there and follow the trail Buffy had left.   
  
Like, NOW.   
  
#Calling all telepaths...Telepath role-call...Except there's no annoying Mouseketeer song.# I hoped my mind-voice wasn't seething.   
  
#Yo.# Rachel.   
  
#Yes?# Betsy.   
  
Emma was next, sounding bored. #Yes?#   
  
#You rang?# Nate and Maddie tieing for fourth place.   
  
A polite voice of disdain was Monet's #Yes?#   
  
#We've got a sort of lead. The doorman saw her go towards Fifth Avenue. Not a nice neighborhood--no surprise the vamps are hiding there. She was followed. Can any of you run a trace on--# I stumbled on something and tumbled forward to be caught in a pair of dark red arms. They were mostly wrapped in a black leather strips. Much like Jono's chest and head. Was there some new fad I didn't know about?   
  
"Hello." It occured to me as the field buckled slightly that it was a very good thing that my banked rage had triggered the automatic telekinetic shell currently wrapped around my body. Considering the strips of leather were slightly shredded where they touched the girl's skin, I had to wonder how mine would have fared.   
  
She blinked at me. One of Emma's kids, who I hadn't been introduced to, yet. "{Hallo,}" she replied.   
  
Somewhat antiquated Yugoslavian, there. I blinked and carefully put together a sentence, trying to remember what I knew of it. "{I'm Marya. And you?}"   
  
Before she could answer, Emma cut in sharply. #What happened?#   
  
I straightened and smiled at the young girl while Nate replied for me. #She stumbled. That young girl of yours who speaks--it sounded vaguely Yugoslavian, Susanna.#   
  
#It is. Old dialect, though. Poor child. Emma, who is she and what's with her skin? I feel almost bruised, under the TK shield.#   
  
"{Yvette.}"   
  
"{Well met, Yvette.}"   
  
Emma sent wordless surprise, then, #Cable, what is she babbling about?#   
  
#Ms DeZorga was caught by Penance, Ms Frost,# Monet replied, boredly.   
  
More surprise, and some shock came through, #Her skin is diamond-hard, you should have been sliced to ribbons.#   
  
#Well, that explains the bruised feeling,# I smiled at Yvette. #Now, where were we?#   
  
#Tracing,# Maddie supplied.   
  
#Ah, yes. Tracing. I was going to ask if any of you could run a trace, using the residual of a psychic imprint--sort of like a blood hound.#   
  
Silence met my question. I chuckled. #You see, I'd have no need to, but...Buffy's unconscious, currently. I'd imagine they're keeping her drugged--less danger of losing your sacrifice that way.#   
  
#We can't. What about using our trackers to follow her scent?# Nate nodded at the shirt I was still carrying. #That should work.#   
  
"Yeah," I said aloud, letting the thought echo through the circle. "It ought to. Rahne, Caliban, Kyle and Logan, I've got a shirt of Buffy's, d'you think you can use it?"   
  
"Yeah," Logan snorted. "Stupid question. Next?"   
  
---   
  
I made an executive decision as we all stood in the middle of Time's Square. "Right. I think you're all wonderful to help, but..."   
  
"There's too many of us." Dom nodded, "I think I'll take the kids ice skating. And anyone else who wants to come."   
  
Which meant she'd listen with Nate for my scream for help. Good. I nodded, "In fact... Logan, Rahne, Kitty, Pete, Kurt and--"   
  
"Me." Amanda Seffton interrupted calmly, "And I think we should take Rachel, too."   
  
I blinked, then nodded, "Right. The rest of you... disperse, act like tourists, and, well... don't look like a large group of people on a mission. There are already too many religious fanatics around here as it is."   
  
And so we dispersed, well, we did once we got to Sixth Avenue. Dom and her group went north from there, the rest of us continued towards Fifth. Once there, the scent led south.   
  
There was also an extra scent, one of fear.   
  
Rahne was the one who identified the demon as smelling like cinnamon and almonds. "Aye dunnae why," she frowned.   
  
"Not all demons smell like brimstone and sulfur," I muttered absently. Something about the combination of almonds and cinnamon was niggling at the back of my brain. But when I tried to chase it, it slipped away and buried itself.   
  
As we turned down yet another side street, I stared at the buildings, spotting one that looked... familiar. It was a normal twenty storey modernish apartment building. Yet not.   
  
"There's somethin' wrong." Rahne slipped back to me as Pete and Kitty consulted their map of New York. The plan was to look as touristy as possible--which wasn't difficult considering only I knew exactly where we were.   
  
"What?" The building was...drawing me, almost. There was something there that I needed to see, needed to know. I'd actually taken three steps before Rahne grabbed my arm.   
  
"Stop."   
  
#Susanna?# Nate's voice overlapped Rahne's and shattered the compulsion that had caught me.   
  
"Shit." Something very powerful had just nearly caught me in its grasp. That was bad. I shouldn't be that easily affected. It had been a spell of Summoning, I decided, analysing my impression quickly. Reaching out and touching it would be the height of stupidity. It was attuned specifically to Slayers, I bet, with a mutter. Well, I knew how they'd caught her. I also wagered that the spell itself would turn anyone attracted by it into a zombie. Semi, anyway.   
  
Which meant that Buffy might be conscious and bespelled. It suddenly had become even more imperative that we find her. I'd thought they'd keep her unconscious until the ceremony. Looked like it was a more elaborate thing than I'd thought. Second question. Why was the Summoning still up?   
  
#Heads up, oh circle. The cat's out of the bag. They know we're looking for Buffy. That compulsion spell was set for me.# Paranoid? Me? I paused, then continued grimly. #Anyone who's had encounters with magick before, discuss it with your group. And watch your backs, people.# Okay, so maybe it was overkill. Maybe they didn't know people were looking for Buffy. And maybe a mugger wouldn't take all my cash.   
  
"Marya?" Kitty Pryde looked at me in concern. "What's going on?"   
  
"A compulsion. Set to pull me--or someone known to Buffy--into the brownstone up there." I nodded at the apartment building Rahne had pointed out.   
  
"Yes." Amanda Sefton came up to stand behind me and raised a hand, her palm pointing towards the building. "I can feel the spell, it's very strong, and keyed to--"   
  
I reacted without thinking, throwing up the strongest shields I could, magickal and mental. The blast slammed into them and my knees buckled. I sensed someone catching me, holding me up, then swore and strengthened the shields as the next blast came whipping our way.   
  
Colour flared out into the visible spectrums this time, due to the energy release as the blast shattered against the shields. I suddenly sensed someone else adding layers of shields. Ray...and the Phoenix she'd inherited.   
  
#Think this'll help?#   
  
#Yeah. Thanks.# I dropped my own mental shields, but kept the magickal ones, and straightened. I could breathe again as the next blast was destroyed. We needed to get away from this area, under cover of some sort. Away. Seemed like a really good idea.   
  
"What the hell happened?" Amanda looked pale, her face drained of colour by the energy that had slammed into her before my shields had risen.   
  
"You triggered a booby trap," I replied tersely. "Kurt, we need to get away from here. Now."   
  
The blue-furred man nodded and caught Amanda's arm. "Come with me, liebchen."   
  
#Ray, can you hold the shields a second more, then let me through them?#   
  
#Yeah. Why?#   
  
#I need you to keep the others covered, with me out of them, the magickal target will change. You should all be fine, just get the hell out of this street.#   
  
#Why?#   
  
#I'm going in. That's why.#   
  
#ALONE?#   
  
#No, I'm taking Barney the Dinosaur with me,# I snapped, irritated that this was taking time. Another blast slammed into my shields and one of them buckled. #Yes, alone. I don't need to worry about anyone but ME in there. Now, get ready.#   
  
The next blast shattered another outer shield, then Ray dropped hers and I hopped out, leaving Amanda hooked into mine until they got under cover. Hopefully, she'd enough power to keep them up. Now, for the difficult part.   
  
I dropped every shield I could without letting the minds on the planet around me overwhelm. For just an instant, my power flared like a supernova, calling to anything that ate energy. And then I reinstated them and built a shadow. The shadow I sent down the street, away from Excalibur and the building.   
  
#We're clear. Gods, that was awesome. Reminds me of... Never mind. Talk to ya later.# And Ray was gone--the link was still there but Rachel Summers had withdrawn to guard her people and keep them safe. Which was good, because I couldn't do it.   
  
"Well," I muttered, "time to be sneaky."   
  
The front door of the building was one of those high-security doors that you have to get buzzed in to enter. It was also standing open. Gee.   
  
A trap is a trap, though, and, ergo must be sprung. I calmly stepped into the foyer and waited. The door slammed behind me. What a surprise.   
  
The first attacker seemed startled when I caught him by the arm and flipped him into the second. Oops, apparently, I'd overstepped the helpless heroine bounds. Oh well. "Sorry, gentlemen--Oof." I ducked the next blow and snapkicked the fifth attacker before he even had a chance to join in.   
  
Which left the one hanging on my arm and the one about to brain me with a blunt object.   
  
---   
  
When I woke up, I was NOT a happy camper. There'd been a sixth assailant and I hadn't even felt the bastard. My second thought was that I was REALLY tired of the heroine always being chained up. "Why me?"   
  
And that's when my hearing kicked in.   
  
"Hades, Hecate, I call on you. Bless this circle and make way for the Gateway. Hermes, I call you. Bless this endeavour."   
  
The first bit was basically the priest requesting several Gods' help. The second, closing the circle. An almost audible snap went through the air and I shivered at the magick that poured down my skin. I'd been wrong about when they were planning to conduct the ceremony. It wasn't at midnight. Apparently, midday would be nifty for our would-be world ruler.   
  
A sound to my right dragged my eyes open, and I blinked in the light. The priest was apparently agreeable to candles but preferred lots of light. Three overhead lamps shone brightly down on me. And Buffy. The Slayer stood next to the slab of concrete I was chained to. #Susanna.#   
  
#Shut up Nate, my head hurts.#   
  
Amusement coloured his reply. #You've been out for an hour. Where are you?#   
  
#Ray?#   
  
#Yo.#   
  
#Get everyone together, and prepare to storm the building I sent you away from.# I looked at Buffy again and winced softly. #Keep Amanda back, though. And yourself.#   
  
There was a rustling, and the priest hoved into view. Leathery black wings soared above his head, spread to either side as he intoned the words of the spell. I'd been wrong again. He needed the blood of a Slayer, but he needed her blood to be of guilt. I closed my eyes and cursed softly. I'd walked right into the trap. Of course, any stupid person would have done, but a friend was even better.   
  
And the need for blood wasn't to open the gateways. I could feel them, hovering there, waiting. They would be easily opened, the blood was to seal them open and merge them together, to give mastery over both to our killer. The priest.   
  
Except for the wings he looked pretty normal, for a vampiric demon. Black curly hair, blue eyes that shone with evil, lips that were thin and permanently in a sneer. I snorted. Great. A stereotypical evil bad guy. I was underwhelmed.   
  
The chant reached a high-note and the gate to Limbo sprang open.   
  
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" hissed a voice. Demonic, by the sound of it. "Reynard. I thought you'd died."   
  
The priest looked towards the gateway--one of the few parts of the room I couldn't see--and smiled. "Hallo, N'astirh, old bean."   
  
End Chapter Ten  
  
=====  
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'  
  
__________________________________________________  
  
  
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga 


	11. Luca Brasi's Got Nothing on You

Disclaimers: As before.   
Notes: Right. I did warn you, once. I got tricked into rewriting much of a large chunk of history. Secondly, anytime a section is topped by a name (Marya, Domino, Maddie/Madelyne) that section is narrated by said name. It seemed the easiest way to make it make sense.   
  
Dedication: To Lynx. I really couldn't have done some of this without her. And to Bev, 'cause I wouldn't have caught some stuff without her. And to Acetal, who keeps encouraging me.   
  
Lastly, thanks to Delirium, and techno-dance mixes.   
  
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga  
Chapter Eleven: Luca Brasi's Got Nothing On You  
by Suzy DeZorga   
  
His affected mannerisms annoyed me too much. Besides, his chanting spell had been so much crap. Mostly said to focus his mind to the task at hand. "Hallo? Hi. Yeah, this is your resident sacrifice."   
  
"Be silent!"   
  
"No." I absently TK'd the chains open and sat up. "D'you KNOW how boring it is to be constantly kidnapped, drugged, bespelled, turned into sacrifices left, right and center and then KILLED?" I sighed and hopped off the slab, finally seeing the Limbo portal.   
  
"You..." The priest stared at me in shock. "How did you--"   
  
He never finished the sentence. A blonde woman was suddenly there, his blood dripping a purple-red from her unsheathed sword. "Y'know? That felt really good."   
  
"Hi."   
  
She looked at me, her blues eyes shadowed and tired. "Do you know how difficult it is ruling a sub-real dimension? And then having to put up with these stupid jokers who enjoy breaking in and trying to take over." She kicked the body on the floor. "Bastard."   
  
"Actually, no, but if you'd like to go for a cup of cocoa--after I unbespell my friend, there--I'm sure we could chat for hours." I waved a hand in front of Buffy's eyes. They barely flickered.   
  
"My Mistress, what is your bidding?" The voice hissed from the portal. A demon of the lesser orders, from my ealier perusal.   
  
"Oh... Go back and instruct the legions to stand down. We're not invading reality." She waved a hand dismissively and turned to me. "Your friend is bespelled by him." She poked the toe of her boot in the pile of leather wings and body. "The spell should have--"   
  
"Yes, yes, I know. But it was an incredibly powerful spell, designed to make her kill, then wake up." I stared at Buffy, then began smiling. "Before you close that portal, have you any... nuisances that require death?"   
  
"Nuisance..." Her lips twitched. "Yeah. Quite a few... prisoners of war, that sort of thing." She snorted. "They're demons. Someone is ALWAYS trying to usurp me."   
  
"Hrm. Any you suspect that you wouldn't mind killing?"   
  
"Illyana."   
  
I raised an eyebrow. "Your name, or the one you'd like dead?"   
  
"Both." She snickered. "My name." She turned to the portal. "N'astirh. Fetch Gordo."   
  
"Yes, Mistress." The demon nodded and slipped away. His errand to the troops had obviously taken but a second. A second later, he slipped back. The demon he escorted was a greeny-gold with a few black spots. Aggression and rage showed in his stance and the little spurts of fire coming from the corners of his mouth added to that appearance.   
  
"Come here, Gordo." Illyana gestured and the demon approached, attempting to appear submissive. "Gordo, I'd like you to kill the Slayer."   
  
The demon blinked. And then again. Shock was quite evident in the look he sent her. Luckily, he was ignoring me as he stepped towards Buffy.   
  
"Buffy, kill." I moved my hands up and cupped them over the Slayer's head. "KILL."   
  
With a snap the spell activated and the Slayer swayed. The demon paused and looked a little worried. He had no time for anything else as Buffy tore into him, her foot catching his jaw.   
  
By the time he was fighting back it was too late, Buffy's right hand closed on the knife at her waist and slipped it between his ribs, twisting and pulling it up and out with a sickening *schlerp*.   
  
The light went out of the golden eyes and he collapsed with a soft crash. Buffy swayed, then blinked and doubled over, her body heaving as the stench rose from the demon.   
  
"A stink-demon. Great, Illy. Just what I needed to smell." I grabbed Buffy's arm and pulled her away from the stench.   
  
"Oh. Sorry. I'd sort of forgotten that's what he was." I believed that. Really.   
  
It was the perfect moment, really. The blonde sorceress queen of the demons was standing, sword still out and dripping with blood. Buffy was doubled over, knife in hand. At both their feet lay demon-bodies of unknown origin. To one side floated a portal into the realm of Limbo, the colours and sounds odd. To another, the barely perceptible Hellmouth hovered. And I was leaning against my sacrificial slab, pondering whether to smack Illy or not.   
  
The door above us burst open and people poured down the stairs. Well, more accurately, the X-Family swarmed down them, then froze at the tableau we presented.   
  
---   
  
"Illyana!"   
  
The exclamation came from several throats, among the people exclaiming, I noted Kitty and Rahne looking quite shocked.   
  
"Oh, fuck." Illyana looked between the X-ers and the portal to Limbo and sighed. "Thanks, whoever you are."   
  
"Marya DeZorga. Sorry we hadn't introduced ourselves more." I smiled charmingly. Well, as charming as someone leaning against a blood-splattered slab could. I could sense her need to flee and sighed. "Tell me, why must all of you..." My voice trailed off as my legs went, the images colliding through my brain overwhelming.   
  
Fire, blood, death, destruction, such horror, and at the centre of it, such sick mad happiness. It reveled in it, enjoyed it to the hilt. And people screamed.   
  
"Marya?"   
  
#Susanna!#   
  
Voices around me, in my head, in my ears, pulling, tugging. Come back, they called, save us. They had no idea, none. My mind tried to bury itself again.   
  
#Marya. What happened, why--# Emma's voice cut off. And *something* smiled at me greedily.   
  
There was no time to warn anyone, I snapped the circle connections and then fell into blackness under the brunt of the power that slammed into it, trying to destroy it. My last thought was of Emma. She'd been the one that it had used to get to us. Which meant she was probably dead. Goodbye, my friend...   
  
---   
  
I came to with several people around me, chattering like magpies. At least, to my addled wits, they sounded chirpy.   
  
"I think she's coming around. Dom, how's Nate?"   
  
The calm voice on the other side of me was Dom, "He's got a nasty headache."   
  
"I can flonqing speak for m'self, dammit." Nate sounded upset that Dom and Maddie got along so well. He also sounded like his head hurt as much as mine did.   
  
Pain covered my mind in myriad colours--especially reds and greens. I felt so Christmasy. "Gods..." I moaned. "Please tell me someone got..." My voice faltered as another vision slipped through my mind. Sometimes, the doubled precog abilities sucked. A child screamed desperately for his mother.   
  
"Marya, what's the matter?"   
  
My cellphone. I needed my cellphone. Without answering any of the questions that raged around me, I scrabbled through my pockets and finally pulled out the damned thing. Dialing was a matter of two seconds.   
  
It rang. "Pick up, pick up." Two, three. "C'mon, you bastard, answer!"   
  
Five, six, "Edward." He sounded exhausted.   
  
"Bastard, you need to be awake more."   
  
"Bitch, you keep waking me up." He retorted.   
  
I laughed, then yelped as my head throbbed in protest. "Edward, I need a favour."   
  
"Again?" He snorted, "DeZorga, I've already pulled strings for you today."   
  
"It's Christmas." I closed my eyes and fought down the precog induced dread. "Edward, I need you to red-one mobilise all emergency services in the New York city area. Especially Manhatten." I winced as another vision flashed through. They were coming fast and thick now.   
  
"Do you know how--"   
  
"Tell them it's a drill, or something, lie to them if you have to! But, Edward, they have to be mobilised and ready." Three people died in the rubble as an apartment building collapsed around them. "Something very bad is about to happen to New York."   
  
I could tell he was thinking about it. At least, I was hoping he was as more images of mass destruction flittered through my mind. I hissed and tried to block them out. The Powers That Be weren't having any and so I was abruptly deluged. It was probably a good thing that I was still lying on the floor.   
  
People died horribly in fires and were buried alive. And hospitals... there was something about them that made me feel dread. The silence had gone on long enough as I fought out of the visions.   
  
"Edward, you still there?"   
  
"Yeah." He sighed. "I'll call some friends in the department. See if we can get a drill going."   
  
"Thank the gods." I relaxed some. "Edward, the people of New York will owe you one."   
  
"So will you."   
  
"If I survive." I replied absently as I hung up. "Has anyone been able to raise the Mansion?"   
  
"Marya, we haven't--"   
  
"What's going on, Dez?" Dom knelt next to me and stared into my eyes. "You don't normally snap a circle link like that."   
  
"Something attacked it. Through Emma." I hissed and sat up, the visions slowly receding. "Since Emma is at the Mansion..."   
  
"Ergo, we should try getting through to her." Maddie nodded. "Makes sense."   
  
"What I'd like to know is why you had to close the portal to Limbo." Illyana sounded a bit upset--or disgruntled--about that.   
  
"Didn't mean to." I replied shortly, getting my feet under me. I carefully stood, swaying and nearly falling over again. "Was--thanks, Maddie--an instinctive reaction."   
  
"Well, you closed it and locked me out of my own bloody kingdom." The 'fucking bitch' was silent, but I heard it.   
  
"Sorry that my instinctive reaction to protect your little kingdom from coming to the notice of a rampaging madman leaves you feeling a little upset." I snapped. I was tired and the visions had drained me of everything but a basic need to stop whatever was going to happen.   
  
"I can't reach the Mansion." Storm looked at me. "Do you know anything about the assailant?"   
  
"It was a man." I replied wearily, "He was... greedy, angry, something more, too." I shook my head. "I'd suggest sending a team back to check on the place--see if there are any..." My voice trailed off and my eyes widened. "Survivors..."   
  
Scott. Scott was still at the Mansion. This was ridiculous, but I needed to know-- "And I'm going with them."   
  
A hand tapped on my shoulder and I turned to look at the Slayer. "Hey, Marya?"   
  
"Yes, Buffy?"   
  
"Thanks for the rescue. Whatever's happening, I'd like to help. But, I could REALLY use a shower first." She grimaced at the demon blood coating her hands. "I really hope this doesn't affect me."   
  
"It won't." Illyana snorted. "Stink-demons tend to just.. die and smell a lot."   
  
"Oh. Good."   
  
"Your dad needs to know you're okay, too." I absently noted, already digging into my reserves to boost my shields for the coming battles. Battles? Gods, I hated precog abilities.   
  
"My dad?" Buffy stared at me. "My dad knows I'm gone--that I'm the Slayer!??"   
  
"No. I hadn't told him that. But he knows you're gone--my name was starred in your address book. He called me, I dragged out the cavalry--" Heat flooded through me and my skin burned off, falling in crispy shreds to the ground.   
  
Nate caught me, this time. "Another one?"   
  
"Yeah." I sighed wearily. "I hate this."   
  
"Hate what?" Buffy blinked at me.   
  
"Precog on rapid fire replay." I winced and stood straight. "Nate, I think we should go--you, me, Dom and X-Force."   
  
"We'll take Buffy back to the hotel, Suzy." Logan nodded to me, "Then we'll find a place, have lunch and wait for the reports to--"   
  
Everyone froze as the communicators suddenly went off and Jean Grey began broadcasting. The transmission was full of static and broken pieces, as if the equipment were being interfered with. "Alex?... Cable... Anyone?... don't even know... transmission being received?... taken total... taken totally unaware!.... teams... decimated! Mansion security was deactivated... from within!... --betrayed by one of our own!... Professor... Xavier--... --was the first to die.... Only one left...powers negated.... our own fault, really--... should never have trusted... we knew so little ab... ..but the dream will... never...!" The transmission completely broke up for a moment. "...die?"   
  
Silence descended for an instant, and then everyone began talking at once, some trying to raise the Mansion, others declaring that they had to go there, now!   
  
"Would you all shut the fuck up?" It was a parade-yell and it silenced them all. "Good. Now. X-Force, Cable, Dom and I are going to the Mansion." I glared them back into silence when they started objecting. "Sean, I'd appreciate it if you split your team in half. I'd like X-Factor, Everett, and Monet to go to Avenger's Mansion. Wake them up if you have to, but get them prepared. Storm, if you could take Sean and Jubilee with you, I'd like you to find the Fantastic Four. They should be at Freedoms Plaza." I sighed. "We need everyone prepared for this."   
  
"For what?" Storm looked at me, "I do not understand why--"   
  
"I don't know what." In my mind's eye, a 'Cafe exploded. "It's going to be bad, though. Very bad." I closed my eyes, shaking.   
  
"What about us?" Kurt stepped forward and looked at me in concern.   
  
"Excalibur..." I blinked, then nodded, remembering. "I need you just... wandering the streets, looking for trouble. I--I can't be more specific than that. I'm sorry." I winced and leaned against Nate. "Let's go before this gets any worse."   
  
And just like that I divided up the teams and sent them on their way. I felt so Den Mother. I think Buffy and Illyana ended up with Excalibur. I let Nate go to round up his kids and looked for Yvette.   
  
She was standing near the bodies of the demon and the priest. "{Yvette?}"   
  
"{Why--}" She gestured at them. "{Why all of the death?}"   
  
"{Death is... a natural part of living, really.}"   
  
The eyes she turned on me were terribly tragic. "{But it shouldn't be.}"   
  
"{No. It shouldn't.}" I closed my eyes against another flash of the future. This time, planes fell, things crashed. People died, it was a nice, common theme. "{We're going back to the Mansion. Something's come up.}"   
  
Yvette shrugged. "{I shall see you, then.}"   
  
---   
  
The Mansion looked normal until we circled around it. I gaped. The back of the mansion was gone, blown out by a large energy blast. At least, that was my guess. I swore softly. There were bodies on the ground down there.   
  
The Blackbird settled down near the back and we all disembarked. Carefully. I wasn't needing to lean on people anymore, since the visions had slowed down. Apparently, the PTB had decided I must have gotten the point and ceased sending them. Now I just had a few memories of blood and destruction to ignore. Par for my life, really.   
  
Nate took point with Dom taking the rear. The kids spread out professionally, watching the shadows. I was sort of in the middle. Nate hopped over the small wall surrounding the pool deck--or, what HAD been the pool deck. The entire thing was littered with debris.   
  
Ahead, the Mansion's back wall was almost completely gone. The blast had ruptured outward, which is why we were wading through pieces of wood, concrete and other things.   
  
#Movement. Everyone hit the deck.#   
  
I followed Nate's lead, smoothly dropping behind a small slab of concrete. A blast of red flew over us. "That was a warning shot!" The voice sounded ragged, exhausted. It was Scott. "Come any closer, and--"   
  
"Scott?" I was standing again, staring towards the place the shot had come from. "Scott, it's us--Marya, X-Force, Cable--"   
  
A blast of red came my way, I dove down again. "I don't believe you. I've seen my son killed by, by--"   
  
"He's perfectly alive, Summers." Dom snapped from somewhere behind me.   
  
#Nate, I'm going to try and flank him.#   
  
#Be careful.#   
  
#Aren't I always?#   
  
#No comment.#   
  
I snorted and began slowly making my way to the left. It sounded like Scott was in the rubble of the kitchen, I couldn't tell from here if there were others there with him or not. The telepaths would be down--Emma, Jean, Jonothon?--which left me Scott, Bishop (I'd bet he was the cause of the Mansion's back wall being gone), Paige and Xavier. I paused. Xavier was a telepath, so why hadn't I included him in the list of those down?   
  
Something crunched behind me and I rolled over to stare up the barrel of Bishop's gun. "Hi." I squeaked. "Bishop, dear, could you maybe point that symbol of phallic inadequacy elsewhere?"   
  
He blinked at me for a moment, then nodded and relaxed, pointing the gun at the ground--sort of to the left of my head. "Marya."   
  
"Bishop. Why've you gone all monosyllabic?" I sat slowly up, careful to not get near the gun. He might have it not pointed at me, but I had the feeling it could be again *real* fast. "I hope you realise that you do know us. We're here to help."   
  
"Are you."   
  
I stood and dusted myself off. "Well, take me to Scott. Please."   
  
He turned and led me past the rest of the rubble to the kitchen. Scott Summers was crouching in the demolished doorway, watching us carefully. Behind him, I could hear others moving. "Scott?"   
  
"He betrayed us. He betrayed us all." The man I was looking at was broken in some way. Something deep inside had snapped because of this. Which meant...   
  
I suddenly knew why I hadn't listed Xavier as one of the telepaths. I hadn't because he was still there. On the edge of my perceptions I could sense him plotting and planning. Malevolently enjoying the havoc he was creating.   
  
"Xavier."   
  
Bishop blinked at me. "How did you guess?"   
  
"He tried to attack us--through the mental links." I closed my eyes. "How is Jono?" I wouldn't ask about Emma yet. Time to find out she was dead later.   
  
"He and Frost are in a coma."   
  
My eyes flew open and I stared at Paige. Her face was tired, but her eyes burned with an inner hatred. "What happened?"   
  
#Susanna...#   
  
"Oops. I sort of forgot them..." I mumbled, then smiled chirpily at Scott. "Could you stop shooting at Nate, Dom and the kids?"   
  
"Yeah." He slumped against the door. "Jean's in there, taking care of them. I've never--he came out of nowhere and just... we should all be dead."   
  
#Come on in.# I reached out and touched his arm. "It's not your fault."   
  
Nate looked at his father wordlessly for a moment, then gestured everyone through the door. "Terry, watch the back door. Scott--dad, come on inside, Terry'll keep watch."   
  
The broken man looked at his son and nodded wordlessly. I caught Nate's arm. #Thank you.#   
  
#For what?#   
  
#Later.# It was time to find the wounded. If Xavier was running lose, destroying--or, soon to destroy--we were going to need all the help we could get.   
  
---   
  
Emma looked very peaceful. I felt incredibly guilty. She and Jono had taken the brunt of the mental attack from Xavier. Or, Onslaught, actually. That's what Bishop said he was calling himself. I ached to know that people were hurt because of me.   
  
There were four other people laid out on the floor of the dining room. Someone had shoved the table out of the way so there was space. I moved on hands and knees to lean over Moira McTaggert. The woman's face was a grey that didn't bode well. Her pulse was very slow, but it was there. And strong. I closed my eyes and gathered energy. If I could do nothing else, I could heal the injured.   
  
#Nate, I'm going into a light Healing trance.# What a time to give my healing powers a workout--when I hadn't done any for years. I grimaced. One week with the X-Men and I'd already done a lot. Moira's left shoulder had been dislocated in a fall--or she was thrown. I sighed and lightly touched her mind. She shouldn't have been unconscious for this long.   
  
For an instant, I was blocked by natural shields she must have practised and created over the years. Then I was in, floating in a swirling mindscape that was painted in reds and yellows. Pain. Physical in nature, with overtones of mental and a few strands of guilt.   
  
I decided to leave the guilt for later. Pain centres, first. I found them and gently slowed them, nearly shutting them completely off. And then I turned to her arm and shoulder. It wasn't a bad dislocation and had been put back properly. There was just a bit of tendon and tissue damage.   
  
Tendrils of my energy spun out and slipped into the shoulder join. Like green glowing finger, they probed and began reknitting broken muscle and tissue. That took a short amount of time, and then I pulled back, leaving the arm and shoulder nearly perfect again. Now I needed to remove the pain blocks.   
  
It was the work of a moment and Moira's pulse began beating stronger. I came up out of the trance and checked. She was sleeping peacefully now.   
  
"Next." I mumbled, standing for a moment and stretching. My back cracked, my neck popped and several things in my legs went ping. "Better."   
  
They had brought Lorna up from the medlab. Her injuries weren't severe anymore, but she was still sedated. Next to her pallet lay Jonothon. I could tell that he'd taken some of the brunt of the blast. A coma covered him like a blanket. Curled up with him lay Paige. Blood covered her, ripped from a dozen different places, the almost spider-web nature crisscrossing her body.   
  
I checked her pulse and found it steady and calm. A quick mental probe at her injuries proved they were superficial in nature. Near to her lay the unconscious form of Fatale.   
  
She wasn't worth my time. Yet. I slipped into a trance and reached for the boy's mind. Around me, the astral plane juttered and weaved, trying desperately to heal the ruptures. Between Xavier's fight a few weeks back and then whatever he'd done this day the plane was badly damaged. I couldn't find Jono. Neither could I find Emma.   
  
Which meant the two of them had retreated to escape. Retreated almost too far. Frustrated, I kicked a hump in the plain and then winced as a bit of feedback rippled through the murky depths.   
  
Out of the trance, I needed out, suddenly. I came up with a gasp to find Grey looking at me across Jono's body. She looked almost concerned. "Yes?"   
  
"You were in there deep." She observed.   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"Did you..." She looked away, "See any--see him?"   
  
"No. I saw no sign of him." I frowned, "Well, other than the destruction, but... Hrm."   
  
"He left a trail." She shivered.   
  
"Grey?" I looked at her hands. They were shaking badly. "Grey, what's the matter?"   
  
"He's out there, calling me. Trying to... Trying to..." Her face crumpled. "He was like a second father to me, DeZorga. Why is he doing this?"   
  
"I don't know." I sighed. "Stuff like madness, like this... it can come on very fast." I was feeling sort of surprised that Grey was talking to me, trusting me in some way.   
  
She shook her head. "Yeah. I guess you're right. It's just..."   
  
Grey didn't get to finish the sentence as our cozy little moment was broken by the sound of something approaching.   
  
We both stood and moved to the kitchen door. Scott was leaning wearily against the door as Cable and Dom stood in front of him, watching a Quinjet land. The rest of X-Force was sort of scattered around the kitchen, with a few behind me.   
  
The 'Jet touched down and settled, engines shutting off. A landing ramp extended and several people walked down it, peering around at the rubble. I recognised Vision and Wanda. Steve was right behind them. I didn't recognise the young kid who cockily sauntered down the ramp. His hair from this distance appeared a glossy brown.   
  
Hawkeye, Iron Man and Janet came next. Hank was close behind them, looking worn and tired. Natasha brought up the rear. All of them looked as if they'd fought a nasty battle and barely won. It was only Christmas. Dammit.   
  
"Nate!" Dom's voice rang out loudly in the silence as she turned to catch the staggering man. He fell, taking her with him. That's the thing about trying to catch someone who weighs a lot more than you and is about two feet taller. Boom, you go down.   
  
I moved to his side and knelt. "Nate, what is it?"   
  
He shook his head, wincing.   
  
"You." The voice came from the brown-haired boy. "Going to try to kill me again old man?"   
  
"What?" I looked up at the little brat and then froze. Just looking at him hurt something deep inside of me. As if he was an anomaly and shouldn't be there. "Who the fuck are you?"   
  
"Nate Grey." He snorted. "And let me guess, you think I should die, too."   
  
"Possibly." I glanced at Nate Summers and sighed. "First, though I'm trying to figure out...why...." I reached out and wrapped my shields around Nate, sighing. "As I was saying, why you seem to cause my friend here pain."   
  
#I'd like to kill the little flonqer.#   
  
#Hush, Nate.#   
  
#Little...#   
  
#Don't give me shit, I diapered you as a novitiate, remember?#   
  
#Yeah, yeah.# He grumbled.   
  
The kid was looking at me, then Nate and back again. "Look, I didn't come here to fight--well, not you, I came, because Xavier's nuts."   
  
"Yes, we'd figured that out," I noted dryly. "And--" Images flashed through my mind suddenly. Robots. Huge, metallic, evil, horrible, killing without mercy, without care. Controlled by Xavier. I shook my head.   
  
Around me, the conversation had moved on. With my shields, Nate was protected from whatever got him from the kid. Ah. My brain recognised the kid, abruptly. He was another from that alternate universe of death, death and more death. Scott was gratefully helping the Avengers move Emma, Jono, Moira and Lorna into the Quinjet. Bishop was talking softly with Dom.  
  
I shook my head and turned to scan the kid. He was incredibly powerful. Near my levels, really. And the energy that drove him was dangerous. It was slowly eating him up from the inside. He'd be dead in a year.   
  
#Marya?# It was Betsy and Rachel, boosting each other from New York.   
  
#Yo.#   
  
#The sentinels have arrived.# The contact abruptly severed.   
  
I blinked and turned to grab a radio. I ended up with my hand on Steve's shoulder as I mugged him. Frequency, frequency, ah! "This is Marya, calling Excalibur. Do you read?"   
  
Static, for a moment, then Kitty's harried voice. "This is Excalibur, we're sort of busy. It would be nice if you'd send some more caterers to help with the party."   
  
"On their way. Marya out." I blinked at Steve who was staring back at me with not a little bit of surprise.   
  
"I thought you once said you'd never touch me again?" He asked mildly.   
  
"Momentary lapse." I smiled sweetly and turned to Scott. "We've got trouble. Xavier had a sentinel factory in his pocket--or, he knew where it was. New York is about to be besieged." So I'd taken out only ONE Sentinel factory. My bad. Besides, how was I to know there'd been three-million others?   
  
"Right." Steve turned and called. "Avengers! We've a large group of sentinels attacking New York! Let's get everything packed up and out of here!"   
  
#Nate...#   
  
#Yes?#   
  
I scrambled out of someone's way and turned to find the man standing behind me, watching the flight. #The kid. He's got to stay here.# I frowned. #If Xavier got his hands on him...#   
  
#It would be really bad.#   
  
#Yeah.#   
  
Cable nodded and turned to Dom who'd come up. "You're staying here. With the kid."   
  
"What?" She glared at him. "Nathan Summers, I am--"   
  
"Staying here, Dom. Sorry." I pointed to where the little brat was sulking against the wall. "Someone has to keep an eye on him. We'll yell if it gets sticky."   
  
A vision of sentinels destroying a library flashed through my head. "We've got to go. Now."   
  
End Chapter Eleven   
  
=====  
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'   
  
__________________________________________________  
  
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga 


	12. Two Chord Cool in the Head

Disclaimers par normal.  
Continuity note: I forgot until after I'd posted, but I have Paige in two places at once. MY apologies. To clear things up, Paige is currently unconscious, with the wounded and Jono. Thanks.  
  
To Lynxie and Acetal. Thanks, guys, I love you, but I'm not writing 400 chapters.   
  
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga  
Chapter Twelve: Two Chord Cool in the Head   
by Suzy DeZorga  
  
The Sentinels hit New York before we did. Not that I was too surprised, they'd already been there when we started back. Sentinels were programmed to hunt and kill mutants. But their current master was a mutant himself. That worried me. Badly.   
  
I dove out of the Blackbird on reaching Central Park and tossed something over my shoulder about getting the wounded to Four Freedoms Plaza. We'd brought Emma and the rest with us, since the Fantastic Four could better care for them. I needed to find the Sentinels and Excalibur. Now. #Ray? Betsy?#   
  
#Yo.# Ray sounded vaguely strained. #We're on Sentinel destruction duty.#   
  
#Keep talking, I need a fix.#   
  
#Right. Anyway, they came ouf of nowhere. Weird thing, though. They're going after regular humans like there's no tomorrow.#   
  
#Got it. Shit.# "Computer, body slide by--" I glanced at the group that was following me. Wanda, Vision and Steve. "Four, to coordinates @$@."   
  
"Acknowledged."   
  
"Hang on."   
  
The park dissolved around us. And a street in lower Manhatton reformed around us. Something shattered nearby and the four of us dove into cover. Sentinels. There had to have been thirty of them tromping through the streets, indiscriminantly killing humans. I could feel the deaths all around me. "Shitshitshit. You three, start stopping them. Now."   
  
Steve just nodded and hopped over a bit of rubble. Wanda followed him as Vision took to the air.   
  
I lost track of everyone in the fight. It was destroy a robot and move on, praying that you could stop them all before they finished off the populace and moved on. Occassionally, you would find one or two people alive. Mutants. I knew Ray and Betsy were around somewhere. I could sense them coordinating things.   
  
Suddenly, a flash came to me and I turned into the coffee shop I was standing next to. The people inside weren't even paying attention to the battle raging outside. They didn't *care*. I felt sickened. The memory fragment pushed at me again and I stared at the counter. The young clerk there was being harrangued by a woman.   
  
"Do you KNOW who I am?" She demanded imperiously. "I am Donna--"   
  
I shoved her out of my way and vaulted the counter, grabbing the boy and dropping us to the floor. "Computer, body slide two to Central Park. NOW!"   
  
The front window of the 'cafe crashed inwards as a Sentinel--dead, but still moving--entered. As the 'Cafe dissolved, I saw an edge of metal shear off the woman's head.   
  
---   
  
Domino  
  
I can't believe they did this to me. Baby-sitting duty. Flonqing pissant asses. I can't say they're incompetent. Much. The kids are just as pleased as I am, of course.   
  
"I can't believe this." Meltdown growled and kicked a piece of debris. It skittered off over the defunct kitchen's floor. "Stuck HERE when we could be THERE doing something."   
  
Unfortunately, though I agreed with her, Nate had left us to watch the brat for a reason. I growled softly. Dez owed me now. Bigtime.   
  
Before I could say anything, Caliban wandered up to me, looking disconsolate, "Patch-Eye, Caliban wants to kill not-CableNathan and go find real CableNathan."   
  
That sounded like a plan to me. And maybe I could kick Nate's ass, too. "Good idea. Why?"   
  
"Not-CableNathan smells wrong." Cal's lip twitched up suspiciously in what was almost a sneer.   
  
"He... smells wrong. What do you mean by that?"   
  
"Not-CableNathan doesn't smell like CableNathan who smells like Patch-Eye." Cal sniffed a bit. "And Patch-Eye smell like CableNathan."   
  
I knew I hadn't wanted to know as around me the kids hooted with laughter.   
  
"Cal!" Meltdown pounced the mutant. "What does Terry smell like?"   
  
"Tabitha--" Siryn began indignantly.   
  
"Caliban want CableNathan." He set his jaw and sat down.   
  
"People." I announced calmly. "Let's get things packed into the Mansion, find lunch, relax."   
  
"Relax? While on baby-sitting duty for HIM?" Meltdown snorted and kicked another piece of rubble. This time, though, it failed to move and she began hopping up and down, yelping.   
  
I refrained from laughing and turned to Caliban. "Cal, please guard the back and let no one but us in."   
  
He saluted me, his agitation with the brat forgotten. "Yes, Patch-Eye. Caliban let no one in but you."   
  
I was turning away, when a thought occurred to me, "Oh, and Cal, I'll have James bring down your teddy-bear."   
  
He smiled happily, "Thank you, Patch-Eye."   
  
"You're welcome." I muttered under my breath as I wandered into the partially destroyed mansion.   
  
The brat looked up at me, his mouth in a perpetual pout. "I wanted to go with them." He whined.   
  
"You and me both. Kid, got a piece of advice for you. Don't whine. It gets on my nerves."   
  
He looked at me for a moment, rebellion warring with something else. "Whatever." He muttered finally and turned away to lean against the wall and look forlorn.   
  
Fuck it. The kid could bitch and moan over against the wall. If he came and did it at me, I'd slap him. I looked around for the rest of the team and spotted James and Terry carefully tugging chairs around a table in the dining room.   
  
Me, I was really craving coffee. And the kitchen was totalled. I decided to try accessing the main computer, since at least then, I could have the sensors sweeping the grounds.   
  
"Terry."   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"I'm going to find a terminal, you're in charge."   
  
She nodded. "We'll be on the lookout fer the boy."   
  
The terminal I finally found in the semi-destroyed mansion--that worked--was a floor up and several rooms over. I wasn't happy about it, but I needed those systems.   
  
Nate had given me passwords to the subsytems he'd set up. So I quickly bypassed the main ones and snorted. Xavier had taken them down on his way out. No surprise. I ended up having to do some creative rebooting...   
  
Computer systems: online.  
C:\  
  
I pondered for a moment, then typed several commands in and waited.   
  
Commands received and acknowledged.   
Please wait.   
  
The computer beeped and gave me another system online message, then beeped again in alarm.   
  
AI detects intruder in lower level.  
Destroy Y/N?   
  
Not yet, I decided. I needed to see who it was first, and the security cameras had gotten blasted when Bishop and Grey took out a large part of the mansion's ass.   
  
Further instructions?   
  
Yeah. Give me a remote unit to control you with in case destruction is needed.   
  
Remote unit constructed. Retrieving.   
  
A small panel opened on the wall, I reached into it and pulled out what looked like a Sega controller. Great. A joystick to save the world with.   
  
I didn't quibble, just logged in with it, checked that it worked and ascertained the location of the intruder. She--or he--was now in the dining room. And none of the kids had called.   
  
A babysitter's work is never done. I crept down the stairs, silently wishing I'd been able to find a terminal closer to the kids. I began hearing voices as I slipped down the hall. The kids, the Brat, and... Sinister. I'd recognise that oily, know-it-all voice anywhere. The self-assured bastard had knocked me unconscious last time. Well, this time, it wouldn't be that simple.   
  
Terry screamed, her voice roaring outward. I used the sound as cover to run down the hall and peek into the kitchen. Sinister was casually ignoring Terry's assault and stalking the unconscious brat.   
  
Wonderful. Just wonderful. I reached down the psilink to Nate. #Nate, I'm blowing the mansion. Sinister is here.#   
  
I stepped into the kitchen and grabbed Roberto, who was slumped against the wall. "Kid, you need to get up and move. Now."   
  
"Ma'am?" He looked at me groggily.   
  
"Get the fuck out of here. Grab Tabitha, too." The others were more or less still on their feet. And were looking at me for orders.   
  
The brat was awake, but not moving. He looked pretty dazed. I sighed and dodged around Terry and Ric who were combining their powers and keeping Sinister off his feet. "Get up, kid. Now."   
  
"What?"   
  
"Kid, get up." I remembered something Nate had done once and began to grin. He was slowly responding to my not-so-gentle tugs. "Kid, can you project a mental clone of yourself?"   
  
"Can I what?" He stood and swayed slightly, wincing.   
  
"We don't have time for this." I shoved him towards the back. "Move. Now."   
  
Terry's voice suddenly faltered and Sinister surged towards us.   
  
And then something roared. Something grey and angry and full of rage. And it streaked into the room and tackled Sinister. I blinked. "Caliban...."   
  
"My God." Terry leaned against Ric as we slowly made ourselves around the fight. "Cal's gone nuts."   
  
"Don't gawk. MOVE."   
  
The rubble outside was a bit of impediment, as were the wounded. We didn't stop. I ran my eyes over the kids, checking that all were there. All but Caliban. I closed my eyes. If Sinister got his hands on the kid all would not be good.   
  
I pulled out the remote pad and typed a few keys, then hit enter.   
  
Self-destruct sequence initiated. Thirty second countdown commences.   
  
From inside the Mansion a roar rang out, feral and full of rage. "Caliban shall NOT let you hurt Patch-eye and CableNathan!"   
  
The clock was ticking, I turned and glared at the kids. "Move!"   
  
They jumped and began moving further away from the Mansion.   
  
Ten. Nine. Eight.   
  
We'd cleared the pool deck. Not far enough. NATE had layed the charges on the Mansion.   
  
Five. Four. Three.   
  
"X-Force! Fire in the hole!" The kids dropped like rocks, scrabbling for cover.   
  
One.   
  
And the world went white. The sound never even registered. The shockwave after it, did. I felt myself picked up and flung several feet. With my luck, I landed fine. A second shockwave, less powerful, rippled through the area. And then the debris began flying.   
  
Nate never does things by half, I'll give him that. When the shit stopped falling around me, I slowly got up. Ouch. Lots of things hurt from being battered.   
  
Concrete, wood, metal and other things that went into the construction of something as complex as the X-Mansion lay scattered around us. I couldn't immediately see the others, but I could see the large steal beam that sat next to me. Two inches more and I wouldn't have a left leg.   
  
"Everyone respond." I called. "Domino here, anybody?"   
  
A muffled voice from my right. "Siryn here."   
  
"Shatterstar here. Rictor's unconscious."   
  
"Meltdown."   
  
"Proudstar. And Roberto's here. I think his arm is broken. But I can't tell, because he's buried in the rubble."   
  
That left everyone but the brat. "Kid? You there?"   
  
"He was next to me when we fell. I don't see him now." Meltdown's blonde head popped into sight. "I can only see you, though, so..."   
  
"He might just be unconscious." I sighed. Great. The little brat was causing us even more trouble than he was worth.   
  
"Dom..." Meltdown looked at me, suddenly uncertain. "Cal was still in there--when you blew it."   
  
"He'll be mourned." I responded curtly. Dammit, I wasn't supposed to get all mushy for a bunch of kids and a stupid mutant who didn't know better than to roast marshmallows on the kitchen table. "Right now, our priority is getting everyone out from under the rubble."   
  
"That'd be nice." Terry noted from her pile of rubble.   
  
In short order a bedraggled and rock dust-covered Terry crawled out, wincing and cradling her left wrist protectively to her chest.   
  
"Let me see."   
  
"Nae. It's just a bloody sprain."   
  
I narrowed my eyes and put on my best Intimidate Look. "Let me see."   
  
Terry's eyes flashed stubbornly. "After we get th' rest out."   
  
"I'll hold you to that."   
  
She nodded.   
  
Half an hour later we had uncovered everyone but the kid. There was no sign of him, not even where we'd last seen him. Roberto's arm was snapped, Terry's wrist was sprained and Rictor had a concussion. All in all, we'd gotten off lightly. As opposed to Caliban who was dead.   
  
#Nate.#   
  
#What is it Dom? I'm sort of busy.# the psi-link was very faint. As if he was expending a lot of energy and not replenishing it.   
  
I cursed, #Nate, the boy's gone.#   
  
He was silent for a moment, then, #I'll tell Susanna.#   
  
#Oh. And, I, um, blew up the Mansion.#   
  
Laughter floated down the link, cut off as he suddenly winced in pain. #Nate? What are you doing?#   
  
#Having a discussion with Banner.# And then the link cut off.   
  
#NATE!# Silence answered my sudden cry. Which meant he was too busy to answer. Not good, not good at all. The kids were still searching for the brat. If Xavier found the kid he'd have a ready psionic power source. Logically, I'd known that was why we were left to guard him. I frowned. Wonder if that was why Sinister had wanted him?   
  
"Hey! Boss-lady, I found something!"   
  
Meltdown's voice pulled me from my reverie. "What?"   
  
"Some sort of mini-tranceiver. I think. Anyway, it's close to where the kid would've ended up." She sauntered over to me and held it out.   
  
As my hand closed around it, I felt an odd tingle. Instinct had me throwing the thing and knocking Meltdown to the ground. "GET DOWN!"   
  
The explosion sprayed more dirt and concrete into the air. I winced as something hit my back. And then I heard it. A soft cackle, then a voice. "Stupid woman, you led them right into a trap. Good work, lucky lady."   
  
Debris rained down and something slammed into the back of my head. Darkness took me.   
  
---   
  
Marya  
  
Central Park appeared around me again and I stumbled, wincing. I'd almost not survived the latest explosion. My ribs ached from being smashed by a Sentinel. The battle was going fairly well, though. The Sentinels were programmed to not harm mutants--even those attacking them. Although, the one who'd attempted to cave in my ribs had been malfunctioning.   
  
I sighed. The problem was that people weren't doing anything but panicking, and then *attacking* those of us trying to help. Ah, the world was such a lovely place these days, what with people left, right and center not giving a shit. But they were perfectly willing to cause pain and suffering.   
  
I shook my head. I had better things to think about. Like, why Elisa's friends were worried about something supernatural especially since we'd stopped the dude from creating Hell on Earth. Although, there was Xavier. He had a lot of power, even without his Sentinels. And there was a general feeling that we were in the calm before the storm. Well, as calm as you can get with the Sentinels destroying New York.   
  
My watch time was two-thirty. My internal time said EAT! I compromised and body slid to a nearby 'cafe, grabbed a sandwich and called Elisa's flat. There was no answer, so I rescheduled our meeting.   
  
My next call, as I munched a sub, was to Edward, who also wasn't there. Great, I was batting a thousand, today. I didn't bother leaving a message.   
  
I left a tip at the counter and headed back to the battlefield. I felt obscurely wierd for taking a break and eating. But I needed the energy.   
  
Central Park had become our nominal headquarters, with several people trading off to man the Blackbird and coordinate. I reported back there and found out that there'd been no word from Nate--not after he'd gone haring off to inspect the wreckage of some ship out in New York Harbour. I had a bad feeling about that, but other things to do.   
  
"What's the news, Scott?" Summers had been handed the post of coordinating, since he was dead on his feet. He was good at it, too.   
  
"About half of the Sentinels have been destroyed. Vision and Mr. Fantastic are working on a way to send out a shutdown program to the damned robots." he replied. Meanwhile, the rest of us were destroying them as they came along.   
  
"Good. Any trouble spots?" My main task was body sliding to the worst attack points and beating some Sentinel ass.   
  
"Some of the GenX kids are being attacked at a school."   
  
I blinked. "You said that with such a straight face. Any Sentinel spots where they aren't currently being taken down?"   
  
"Yeah." He tapped the map on the screen. "There, there and there."   
  
"Right." I nodded, "I'll be there if anyone needs me."   
  
"Wait!" Madelyne dashed into the room and grabbed my arm. "We have to find Nathan. Now."   
  
"What?"   
  
"I was keeping in mental contact with him--he just disappeared." She looked a bit upset, "He was fighting some--Post, I think it was. Onslaught's Herald."   
  
"Onslaught? Herald?" I blinked. "Xavvy's calling himself Onslaught AND he's got a Herald?" I snickered. "Can we say 'over-compansation'?"   
  
Maddie snorted. "Yeah. Anyway, can you get us to Nathan's last known location?"   
  
"Where was it?"   
  
"Here." Scott pointed at a point near the harbour. He looked at me, "Please don't let him die."   
  
"Wasn't planning on it." I grabbed Maddie's arm, "Let's go."   
  
---   
  
Madelyne  
  
A mother's work is never done. You carry the little buggers for nine months, give painful birth in the middle of the kitchen--all by yourself, no less. Try to sacrifice them once or twice, finally give them up and then die. And they still drag you back as psionic entities and need you to save their asses.   
  
Okay, so, technically, it was my son's alternate twin from another dimension that brought me back. But it amounted to the same, in my book.   
  
"I *said* stay. DOWN." I snapped at the green man that had, until two seconds ago, been beating the life out of the previously mentioned son. The dense son that didn't bother to call for help, just let himself get nearly killed. Twice.   
  
"Hulk smash."   
  
"No, Hulk *get* smashed." A TK fist slammed the thing back into the wall. "A new vocabulary would be good, too."   
  
"He has no brain, well, Banner's in there, somewhere." my companion mumbled as she tried to knit my son's injuries back together.   
  
"No excuse for poor manners." I replied and absently slammed the man against the wall again. He slumped, finally unconscious. "How's Nathan?"   
  
#Dying.# She replied shortly.   
  
#That bad?# I raised an eyebrow. #Need any help?#   
  
#Not yet.# She snorted grimly. #Your son has this bad tendency of getting himself mostly dead, then letting the rest of us pull his grits out of the fire.#   
  
#He takes after his father that way.# I replied dryly.   
  
She was silent after that.   
  
---   
  
Marya  
  
Nate's mind had retreated incredibly far to get away from the trauma his body was in. I didn't like that fact. I also didn't like the fact that he'd been beaten on more than once. That meant there was someone else out there powerful enough to KO Cable. And it wasn't Xavier.   
  
I floated the pathways in Nate's mind and tried to heal the physical damage. Well, not tried. I actually succeeded. But Nate was fighting me every time I tried to keep the TO virus in check. He was doing it himself, but it wasn't enough.   
  
#Nate, you annoying bastard, LET. ME. IN.#   
  
For a moment, there was nothing. And then I heard a soft, sardonic chuckle. #That won't work, dear.#   
  
I whirled in the mindscape and stared. He looked like Nate would have if the TO virus had never gotten him. #Who the fuck are you?#  
  
#I'm hurt. My 'brother' never told you about me? Even his cow-girlfriend, Domino, knows.# The man slowly stood in the mindscape and extended a hand. #I, my dear, am Stryfe.#   
  
#Stryfe.# I stared at the hand he held out and snorted, #Boy, you really think he hadn't mentioned you on occassion? Nate gets drunk faster than a virgin on her wedding night.#  
  
He threw back his head and laughed. #I like you. My brother was ever one for amusing women.#   
  
#That's nice.# I smiled sweetly. #So, what're you doing here?#  
  
#Squatting, I believe, is the applicably dirty term.# He wrinkled his nose. #It sounds so... base and boring, really.#   
  
#Ahhh... So, you're hanging about, hoping to find a new body.#   
  
#That's about it.# He flashed me a charming grin. #And you're here to heal the body I'm in, so I'll let you get on with that.#   
  
My lips twitched. #Not so fast, hon, I need some help.#   
  
He blinked at me. #What?#   
  
#I need some extra energy. I think killing you ought to release enough to finish the job I'm doing.#   
  
His mouth dropped open and he stared at me for an instant, then, #You wouldn't.#   
  
#Wanna bet?# I turned slightly outwards, #Maddie?#   
  
#Bored, bored--oh, it's you. What?#   
  
#Wanna come help smite someone?#   
  
#Huh?#   
  
#Stryfe is squatting in your son's body.# She was there faster than I could snap my fingers.   
  
#Oh, isn't this sweet. Mommy come to make Natey all better?# Stryfe had recovered his sangfroid.   
  
#No, mommy come to kill Stryfe.# Maddie corrected him calmly. #I'd rather not have evil influences in my son's life. Especially you.#   
  
I smiled sweetly at Stryfe. #I really wouldn't try that, if I were you.#   
  
#Try what?# He tried to look innocent.   
  
#Hide in Banner's mind.# I lashed out at him, catching him with my mind and holding him in place. #Maddie?#   
  
#Thank you.# For an instant, nothing. And then Maddie's mind slammed into Stryfe and tore him to shreds. He screamed as she did it, desperately trying to get away. I didn't let him. He fought back then, tried to stop us. I'll admit that if we hadn't double teamed him, he might've won.   
  
But he didn't. Madelyne Pryor pried his mind apart like a candy wrapper, then crumpled it up and killed it. Stryfe's death expounded rather a lot of energy, suddenly. He must've had a store of it, because the magnitude knocked Maddie backwards. I'd been waiting, though, for energy. No such thing as too much, I thought grimly.   
  
#Maddie?#   
  
#I'm fine. Finish the damned job.# And she left to go back to torturing Hulk.   
  
I wove through Nate's brain, healing the pieces of it that Stryfe had shattered at various times. Pulling the mindscape together and filling the correct reserves with energy. His body mended, his mind mended, but still no flicker of life from the part that was HIM.   
  
#Nate?# I called tentatively, floating in a serene center. #Nate, I know you're out there. It's safe, you can come out now.#   
  
Nothing answered me. I snorted. #Nathan Summers, get your ass out here. We need your help to defeat Xavier. Besides, we've lost contact with Domino and the kids.#   
  
That got a response. If a sleepy one. #Marya? I'm tired. Go 'way.#   
  
#No. You are going to wake your ass up and we're going to join your mother, the psionic entity out there beating up on the green thing, and we're going to go rescue your lover and the kids.#   
  
He was silent for a moment then answered petulantly, #Do I have to?#   
  
#Yes.#   
  
#Bitch.#   
  
#I know, but you like me anyway. Now, wake up, Nate!#   
  
With a gasp we both snapped back into the real-world plain, awake. I groaned as a headache slammed into my brain. "Nate, you get to heal yourself next time."   
  
"Susanna..." He was silent for a moment as he sat up. "What did you do?"   
  
I contrived to look innocent. "Healed you. That's all."   
  
"And got rid of that nasty parasite." Maddie inserted sweetly.   
  
Nate looked between the two of us, then groaned. "I was keeping him around to gain the secret to Legacy."   
  
"Oh." I coughed and looked down, "Um, sorry...."   
  
"Never mind, let's go save Domino--I like her, by the way, son."   
  
"Thanks, Mom. Your approval of my girlfriend was just what I wanted." He looked suddenly very worried.   
  
I fought back a snicker and contacted the computer. "Body slide three to the X-Mansion."   
  
End Chapter Twelve   
  
=====  
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'   
  
__________________________________________________  
  
  
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga 


	13. We Squeak With Idiot Fake Surprise

Disclaimer: Um... I don't own them, Marvel does, etc.  
  
Notes: I've lost my normal notes--either that, or forgot  
where I put them. This chapter has actually been sitting  
around for a few months. Not sure why I forgot it was here,  
but... Anyway. I'm posting it now.  
  
QuickCatchUp (in case you weren't here before): Marya  
DeZorga joined the X-Men, uncovered an Evil McCoy, and is  
now in New York as Onslaught attempts to make the world  
Safe For Mutantkind. Add in previous experience with most  
of the disreputable types who hang on the fringes of the  
X... And wackiness ensues.  
  
Rating: PG13/R for language and violence. It's being told  
from three different points of view - Marya, Domino, and  
Madelyne.  
  
Dedication: to Lynx, who keeps kicking me for more. I  
refuse to write another 300k tonight.  
  
I should note, btw, that without Lynx, much of Marya  
wouldn't be possible.  
  
Oh. And please leave logic at the door.  
  
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga  
Chapter Thirteen: We Squeak With Idiot Fake Surprise  
by Suzy DeZorga  
  
Domino  
  
"Where the hell's the boss in all this?"  
  
Being awake again had its perks. Things like how accesible  
my gun was, for instance.  
  
"Dunno. Think he's still alive in there?"  
  
"Don't be stupid, Arc. That explossion would've killed  
anyone."  
  
"Even him?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Hey, the blonde chickie's awake."  
  
Meltdown's voice sounded out, then. "Yeah, I'm awake. Get  
your hands off me, asshole."  
  
"Oh, she's a feisty one."  
  
"I'll show you feisty." There was a popping sound and  
something splattered against the rubble. "Next?"  
  
"She just... Scrambler! Get over here, we've got--"  
  
Another popping noise and the patter of blood and other  
materials falling on the ground. "There. Now, where are the  
rest of you--oh, shit."  
  
"Hey, girlie. Playing? Try it now." The voice was smooth as  
silk and sounded smug.  
  
Scrambler, one of the Marauders. I cursed under my breath  
and fought upwards out of the rubble. I wondered how many  
of the team were uncovered as I struggled. Scrambler. That  
meant the Marauders were expecting to run into resistance.  
Which meant Vertigo was around somewhere, too. Arclight and  
Riptide were the two that Meltdown had totalled. Or I  
assumed totalled.  
  
The blast had knocked most of us out. Meltdown, I'd knocked  
her over. Which meant I ought to be free soon. With a  
curse, I was. The afternoon sunlight poured down on me,  
making me wince.  
  
The sound was all the distraction Tabitha needed. Scrambler  
turned to me and she acted, slamming a fist into his  
stomach. As he doubled over, she yanked her knee up and  
caught his jaw. He went over with an "oooph." My pistol  
shot finished the job.  
  
"Good work." I rolled to my feet and began scanning the  
horizon. My back twinged, I ignored it.  
  
"Thanks." She slipped over to stand at my back. "I think  
we're the only two still awake."  
  
"Debatable. Seen any other Marauders?"  
  
"Only those three."  
  
I finally glanced down to confirm that the first two were  
indeed dead. They were, their intestines spread over a  
large portion of the area. My nose wrinkled as I finally  
caught a whiff of the stench. Charnal-outhouse. Lovely  
smell.  
  
"Let's see if we can find the others."  
  
"Right."  
  
We silently searched, finally finding Shaterstar's arm  
sticking out of a pile. I looked at Meltdown, my back was  
by now attempting to murder me. I ignored it. "You watch,  
I'll dig."  
  
"Okay." She mumbled, turning to watch.  
  
Satisfied that someone wouldn't be able to sneak up and  
kill us, I began picking up and throwing pieces of concrete  
and rock off of 'Star.  
  
I quickly uncovered his head and neck, then stopped to  
check his pulse. He moaned as I touched the side of his  
neck. "'Star?" I whispered. "You in one piece?"  
  
His eyes flickered open. "Ric?"  
  
"Uh, no." I snorted and began pulling the rest of the  
debris off of him. When he was halfway uncovered, I  
stopped, "Finish this yourself, I need to find the others."  
  
The other Marauders had to be somewhere. Sabretooth was  
still down--hell, he'd been in the mansion when we'd blown  
it. I winced. So had Fatale--who we'd taken prisoner.  
Scrambler, Arclight, Riptide--down. Which left Vertigo,  
Prism, Blockbuster and Scalphunter.  
  
Four Marauders. Against me and Meltdown. I glanced back at  
the struggling sword-boy, and Shatterstar. Wonderful odds.  
I just hoped Meltdown didn't hurt herself trying to kill  
them all.  
  
"Hey! Over here!" Scalphunter trundled over the rubble  
towards us. I'd read some of Nate's files on them ages ago.  
He'd had a large interest in Sinister. No surprise, really.  
Which gave me some idea as to their powers and what to  
expect from them.  
  
I fired, hitting Scalpie in the chest. He fell backwards,  
wounded. Next to me, I heard Tab curse under her breath. It  
was the only warning I had as my stomach abruptly turned  
over. My diaphragm rebelled and attempted to come out  
through my throat.  
  
"Vertigo." I croaked. "Fuck."  
  
---  
  
Marya  
  
The Mansion's rubble materialised under our feet. Nate  
staggered as the slab he stood on tilted. I grabbed his arm  
to steady him. "Don't fall on me, bub."  
  
"So sorry." He pulled away and joined Maddie scanning the  
area around us. The Mansion was just *gone*. Debris in the  
form of massive girders, blocks of concrete and wood chips  
coated the area in a half mile radius.  
  
"Ye gods." I whispered. "Where the fuck is Dom?"  
  
"I don't know." Nate said grimly. His eyes were hard.  
Worried. I was glad to know he was worried about Dom, since  
I occasionally worried that he didn't care enough.  
  
I closed my eyes and reached out mentally, feeling for Dom.  
For an instant there was nothing. And then a deluge of  
images slammed through me. My knees buckled. Pain, blood,  
fire, children burning. My nightmares. "Computer," I gasped  
out, "Body slide one to--" Another wave washed over me and  
I mumbled the coordinates around the sight of a man slowly  
burning.  
  
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a building  
burning. A Sentinel stood over it, triumphant in its  
robotic way. 'Kitty's Day Care Center' proclaimed the  
melting plastic sign. "Shit." I muttered. I could hear the  
children inside, screaming, begging for help.  
  
First imperative: stop the fire. I reached out, then cursed  
my not-elemental nature. The only way to stop it would be  
to douse the flames with something. Smother them, maybe? I  
blinked. The flames were dying down. I looked around for a  
reason. There was none. And then it hit me why they'd die  
down.  
  
The blast caught me and threw me into the plate-glass store  
front across the street from the day care. The only thing  
that saved me from being turned into many pieces of  
human--well, two things, really. The first was being an  
Immortal Slayer. And the second was the TK shield I still  
had wrapped around every inch of my body.  
  
So instead of crashing through the window and instantly  
dying, I crashed through it and fell in a bruised heap on  
the floor. "Ow."  
  
My head rang with the soundless sound of the blast. A gas  
line must have ruptured and been caught. It was the only  
thing that would pull the flames back for an instant. I  
closed my eyes and fought the tears that threatened. All  
those kids. And I couldn't save them.  
  
"Target destroyed. Acquire new target."  
  
The Sentinel's mechanical voice shattered the despair that  
had welled in me. A despair that paralysed and brought a  
sense of hopelessness with it. We wouldn't win.  
  
"Target acquired. Scanning. Humanity confirmed. Destroy  
target."  
  
No. Whoever, whatever had been targeted, it wasn't getting  
them. A sheer act of will had me on my feet and hopping  
over the lip of the broken window. That *thing* would not  
have them.  
  
Two kids, badly injured from the blast, lay on the street.  
The Sentinel stood over them preparing to fire. "HEY!"  
  
It ignored me, of course. "Hey, you, you big ugly piece of  
fucking metal, ANSWER ME, DAMN YOU!"  
  
You can always tell when I finally snap. I tend to lose any  
sense of proportion. Anger coursed through me and found  
expression in a gigantic TK fist which shattered the  
Sentinel's head. The body swayed there for a moment, then  
slowly toppled into the crater produced by the explosion.  
  
"Hey, you okay?" I dropped to my knees and felt like crying  
again. The kids were dead. Their injuries had apparently  
been too extensive.  
  
Something creaked. I whirled up into a fighting stance,  
then stopped. It was only the wind shifting the metal body  
of the Sentinel. My eyes widened. Only wind? There had  
been--  
  
The second blast was probably louder than the first. I'm  
not really sure, considering by the time it finished  
exploding, I was already unconscious.  
  
---  
  
Maddie  
  
I blinked. "Stupid bitch." I muttered under my breath as  
Marya bugged out faster then a high school boy removed a  
girl's bra. Not that I remembered high school much.  
Considering I'd never gone. "Tell me, son, does she  
normally run off that quickly?"  
  
"She's got a lot on her mind." He replied absently, still  
scanning the area for his girlfriend.  
  
"Ah. I'm going to take to the air, see what I can from  
there." I didn't wait for his answer, just hopped into the  
sky and sighed.  
  
From the sky, the destruction was even more apparent. I  
winced slightly at it all. The center, where the Mansion  
had been, was gone. A deep pit gaped up at you, the  
contents spewed out and strewn around the surrounding area.  
  
And in the rubble, our quarry. I could see about four of  
them, surrounding my son's girlfriend. Her and two of his  
kids. The blonde one--Tabitha, I think. And the kid with  
all the swords. They were bent over, in pain? I wasn't  
sure. #Nathan.#  
  
#Yes?#  
  
#I've found them. About,# I checked, gauging, #five hundred  
yards from you. Or so.#  
  
#I'm on my way.# He sounded somewhat relieved.  
  
#Oh. And someone is surrounding them.# I frowned, slipping  
lower to look at them. #They look familiar.#  
  
#How?#  
  
#Never mind.# I decided not to wait for him to get there,  
though I could see him valiantly dashing across the rubble.  
The three weren't going to last.  
  
The little green-haired girl didn't see me until I hit her  
in the head. Her loss of concentration freed Domino and the  
kids. They all crouched, panting.  
  
"Hey!" He looked like a glass sculpture.  
  
"Whatever." I shoved telekinetic fingers through the facets  
and began pulling them apart. He died sort of horribly.  
  
I heard a popping noise and then a gun began firing. I  
turned to watch as sword-boy jumped into the air and came  
down with his sword shoved through the big guy's eye. That  
had to hurt.  
  
"There." Domino nodded at me. "Madelyne. Thanks."  
  
At that moment, my son came upon us, panting. "I'm...  
late." He decided, his voice dry.  
  
Domino smirked at him. "We're fine, in case you were  
wondering." She sobered abruptly. "Nate, I'm sorry, but..."  
She straightened slightly, as if expecting a blow. "Caliban  
is dead."  
  
---  
  
Domino  
  
It was the hardest thing I'd had to do in a long  
while--tell Nate someone had died on my watch. As he  
absorbed the news, I waited.  
  
"Where's the rest of the team?"  
  
"Buried." I closed my eyes, suddenly, remembering there was  
worse. "And Onslaught has the kid."  
  
Nate actually swayed for a moment, his face draining.  
"Oath!"  
  
"Hey, boss-lady, shouldn't we find the rest?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'll help." I blinked at Madelyne. "Hey, I can at least  
help unbury them."  
  
"Thanks." I nodded and stepped around the body of  
Blockbuster. "We've already checked over there. I think  
they're in this section."  
  
The explosion's center was about where Tabitha and I had  
been. Moving outwards, we'd found Shatterstar. We had to  
find the others. And soon, before they ran out of oxygen  
under the rubble. I fought down a sudden fear. We would  
find them. We had to.  
  
Every Marauder we'd come into contact with was dead. We'd  
killed them, after Madelyne had released us from Vertigo's  
clutches. The wounded Blockbuster--after I'd shot him--had  
been dealt with by Shatterstar. I was surprised that 'Star  
had been up to that.  
  
Tabitha had dealt with a few herself. I sighed, she'd  
killed for the first time. With her powers. I was hoping  
she wouldn't crack. I didn't need to have one of my kids  
going nuts on us. Not now.  
  
We found Julio a few minutes later. I felt sick as I looked  
down at him. His head lay at an odd angle, and I knew  
without checking that he was dead. 'Star looked down at his  
friend with a sort of deadness in his expression.  
  
"Let's find the others."  
  
A scream rent the air and we all turned to see Terry  
pulling herself out of a pile of rubble. James' dark head  
appeared next, then his arms and shoulders as Siryn's  
scream cleared the debris from him.  
  
"How is he?"  
  
"I'm nae sure, he's nae responding." The redhaired young  
woman stopped trying to move the unconscious young man.  
"Help me get him stable."  
  
I nodded and holstered my gun. The Marauders were dead,  
there was no need for it at the moment--even if holding it  
was sort of comforting. Jimmy was barely breathing when I  
slipped a hand along his neck to check his pulse. It was  
there, but terribly faint. "Madelyne."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Do you think you can pick him up and lay him--" I looked  
around, trying to find a flat space large enough for him.  
"Ah. There. Try not to move him at all."  
  
"Honey, I was moving people telekinetically before my son  
was two." She flashed a smile. "Not that that means much."  
  
Two minutes later, Jimmy lay spread out on the makeshift  
stretcher. He was still out cold, but the careful testing  
and straightening of his arms and legs helped him breath  
better.  
  
I left Terry watching over him and went on. A thought  
struck me as I stepped over another jumble of bricks.  
"Madelyne?"  
  
"Do you think you could see where the second blast center  
is, and circle from the air?"  
  
"You mean look for them from the sky?" She nodded and  
slipped into the sky. "Got it."  
  
I looked after her, envying a bit the ability to do that.  
Then I shrugged and went back to the task of finding the  
rest of my team before they died under the rubble.  
  
---  
  
Marya  
  
I awoke with a splitting headache. Noise assaulted me from  
all sides, dinning into my brain and causing so much pain.  
And the lyrics were excruciatingly stupid.  
  
"Great," I mumbled, not moving or opening my eyes. "I've  
died and gone to teeny-bopper heaven."  
  
At least, I was assuming that's what it was, since their  
were several young men strutting about below me. How the  
hell I'd gotten into the rafters of some open-air  
amphitheatre, I didn't know. I wasn't even sure whether I  
wanted to know.  
  
Not that it mattered. I needed to get back to the command  
post, and check in. "Computer, body slide one to Central  
Park."  
  
"Confirmed."  
  
The rafters dissolved around me, just as I heard the  
screaming begin.  
  
I staggered as I hit the park turf, and swore. "Computer,  
body slide one to previous coordinates!"  
  
"Unable to comply."  
  
"What?" I swore in Greek.  
  
"Coordinates no longer exist."  
  
"Gods dammit." I sighed and bent my head, fighting not to  
scream or cry. They were gone, then. All of those kids I'd  
seen. And the singers.  
  
The feeling of despair that washed over me then put me on  
my knees. Kids, kids, and more kids... Dammit, it was  
always the kids.  
  
"Fuck that, I can't save them, so I try to build a better  
future." I blinked and winced. "Great, now I'm sounding  
like a politician."  
  
"Marya!" Someone dropped to their knees next to me. "Are  
yah okay?"  
  
"No." I replied, voice muffled. I felt old, tired. "But I  
will be."  
  
"Good, sugah." Rogue slipped an arm around my shoulders as  
we stood.  
  
"How goes the day?"  
  
As we walked to the Blackbird, Rogue filled me in on as  
many current events as she could. "And then, Magneto--well,  
he looks like him, and has his power, but he's calling  
himself Joseph, and--"  
  
"Hold on, Rogue." I straightened and blinked at her,  
"Magneto?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
We stopped on the ramp to the Blackbird. I frowned. "What's  
he doing?"  
  
"Fighting alongside us." Rogue shrugged and looked away.  
"Ah've got to get back."  
  
"Why were you here, anyway?"  
  
"Lunch." With that prompt comment, she turned and jumped  
into the air, soaring off to parts unknown. Well, in New  
York, there really WERE parts unknown. Especially in the  
sewers.  
  
Scott looked up at me as I stepped into the console room.  
His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion and grief. I nearly  
told him to get sleep, but we needed him there,  
co-ordinating everything. He was the best person we had for  
that. "Eaten recently?"  
  
"Eaten?" He blinked at me, something flashing in his eyes,  
then leaving them.  
  
"Yeah. Food. You know, sustenance?" I sighed and went  
searching through some of the small cupboards. I found a  
bag of chips and two sodas. "Great. Real nutrition."  
  
"Rogue got the last of the rations." Scott mumbled  
absently.  
  
"Ah." I snorted and set the cans and the chips down on the  
console next to his hand. "Here, eat. I'll try to have  
someone bring you something hot next time." I turned to go,  
then stopped and looked at him again. "I'm sorry."  
  
He looked at me, startled. "Why?"  
  
"Just..." I sighed and waved a hand. "In a way, I feel  
responsible for all of this."  
  
"I don't..." He sighed and looked away. "It's not your  
fault. We should have been more diligent."  
  
I rubbed my hand over my eyes and fought my own fatigue.  
This was so senseless. Xavier had gone nuts, or something.  
Either way, it didn't matter. He had to be brought down.  
Before he destroyed the world. It suddenly crossed my mind  
to wonder where the fuck Nate and Maddie were. Not to  
mention Dom. "Shit."  
  
Scott blinked at me.  
  
"Fuck. Scott, have you heard from Nate or Dom?" I swayed as  
a wave of precog hit me. It slipped through too fast to get  
a good feel for it. But a sense of dread settled on me,  
tensing my shoulders. Something very, very bad was going to  
happen.  
  
"No, what--"  
  
I turned without awaiting an answer and ran to the doorway  
of the Blackbird. Two people stood below the hatch, one was  
an unknown, the other was the kid I'd pulled from the  
coffee bar. Michael. I swore and hopped off the Blackbird,  
then slid my arm around Michael's waist. "What happened?"  
  
His companion looked at me, disgust in her eyes. "A fire.  
Duh."  
  
True. She and Michael were covered in soot and other  
things. I swore again as Michael sagged completely in our  
grasp. "Let's get him inside." I slipped telekinetic  
fingers around him, pulling up. In less than two seconds,  
I'd telekinetically lifted the three of us into the  
Blackbird. "The infirmary is this way."  
  
Not that is was huge and well-stocked or anything. I  
scowled. A small bed, a few diagnostic panels, and lots of  
bandaids. Woohoo. Lots of good equipment. The sarcasm  
dripping from my thoughts almost distracted me from the  
task at hand.  
  
Michael woke up at that moment and whimpered. Almost in  
unison, we set him carefully down on the bed. "Where am I?"  
  
His voice was quite weak and sounded horrid. I winced.  
"Safe. For now." I rapidly ran a scan over him. Nothing  
worse than smoke inhalation and a few burns. I winced  
again. They would hurt when he stopped being in shock. I  
turned to the girl. "Your turn."  
  
"My turn?" She snorted at me. "No. I'm fine, thanks."  
  
I sighed. "Look, don't argue, just let me scan and check  
you for injuries."  
  
"No." Her eyes flashed angrily.  
  
Normally, when you offer medical help to someone they, at  
the least, say 'yes' gratefully. They don't usually get  
angry and say 'go away' in so many words. I sighed. Great.  
A burned kid--I'd sent him where I'd THOUGHT he'd be  
safe--and his friend, who didn't want to be healed.  
  
---  
  
Maddie  
  
From the air, I could see my son and his girlfriend. She  
was really quite competent, aside from the almost-panic I'd  
sensed from her earlier. And she really cared for the kids.  
And Nathan. My lips twitched into a bitter smile. Too bad  
his father couldn't have felt the same for me. A wave of  
wistfulness washed over me, followed by disgust.  
  
Really, dwelling on the past was a waste of my time.  
Besides, Marya seemed quite attracted to my ex. I grinned  
at that. The poor woman was almost embarrassingly in love  
with him. I'd seen it in her wistful glances and the way  
she tried not to kill Grey. Stupid cow. Grey, not Marya.  
  
I shook my head and started actually looking for the kids.  
Something about the area made me think we needed to get  
away from it. Soon.  
  
With that thought, I spotted a splash of colour and swooped  
lower. Yellow and blue, the ragged end of a sleeve. I  
slipped to my knees to feel into the rubble, searching.  
There wasn't a conscious mind, but, I thought there was  
something there.  
  
Carefully, I pulled the rubble off, telekinesis was a new  
tool for me (my comments to the contrary aside), but I was  
getting better with it. I quickly uncovered a dark brown  
arm, and smiled. Success. The kid was probably still dead  
to the world. I carefully moved some more rubbble, towards  
the shoulder and stopped, frowning. Something didn't feel  
right.  
  
The hand lay there, unmoving, but that wasn't it. I  
shrugged. It didn't matter. I continued removing the rubble  
from the upper arm and shoulder, completely uncovering  
them. I started digging lower, and gasped. "Oh, shit."  
  
Blank revulsion had me scrabbling backwards away from the  
pit I'd half-dug. Unfortunately, I fell into a dip and  
found myself face to, well, legs, the rest of the body  
under the rubble. The white shard at the apex had to be the  
backbone. It was sheared off quite raggedly, bits of pale  
pink muscle and darker, almost mauve tissue hanging near  
it. As for the previous sight of the ragged edge of his rib  
cage...  
  
I don't think I screamed. I could be wrong, though. I lost  
a few seconds as I threw myself up into the air to get away  
from the sight. A stir of some sort was caused, because my  
son and Domino arrived on the scene, the kids trailing  
behind them. I hovered above them, for a second uncertain.  
  
And then I slipped back through the air and landed on the  
lip of the pit. "Nathan, I'm sorry..."  
  
My voice floated away on the breeze as he knelt down to  
carefully turn the upper half of the kid's body over. I  
hissed and was suddenly glad I didn't eat. The shrapnel had  
torn through the kid's shoulder. The arm and shoulder I'd  
uncovered was just that. An arm and shoulder. His legs were  
in the pit I'd also unconvered. Given the pattern, I  
suddenly knew where his head was.  
  
Nathan knew, too. I blinked at the silent ferocity that  
threw a pile of debris away from us and uncovered the rest  
of the kid's body. I heard choking noises from the other  
kids and turned slightly, wishing I could block their view.  
No one should have to see a friend pulled apart like so  
much meat.  
  
Which was what the unfortunate brat looked like. Blood lay  
in congealed and slippery strands, following the line of  
shattered intestine and bone. Fragments of skin and hair  
lay near what had been his head. The  
redhead--Terry--stepped up to me and sighed. "Dammit."  
  
"I'm sorry." The words felt inadequate, and I winced. Where  
was my devil-may-care anger that was willing to see anyone  
die? I felt suddenly very small and mortal.  
  
"Nae. It's nae yuir fault." The young woman tried to smile  
as she slipped an arm around my shoulders. "None o' this  
is."  
  
"You're right." I said softly. "But I still..." I let my  
voice trail off and looked away. Domino was standing next  
to Nathan's kneeling form, now. She was fighting the urge  
to run, I could tell. I straightened and smiled. "It's not  
Domino's, either."  
  
"Nae." Terry agreed quietly. But her voice betrayed her.  
She knew as I did that Nathan would blame her. They were  
under her watch. She failed.  
  
Someone's radio crackled, suddenly. Terry jumped next to  
me. Domino pulled the handset from her belt and spoke into  
it. I stepped closer to hear the conversation.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Dom! *crackle* Marya, we need you guys bac--*crackle*  
NOW!"  
  
"Kitty? Say again, you're breaking up."  
  
"I said *crackle* back here! NOW!"  
  
Domino nodded grimly and flipped off the comunit. "You  
heard the woman, people. Let's pack it up and get out of  
here."  
  
"But... Um... how?" Tabitha carefully avoided looking down  
as she came closer to us. "I mean, we have no..." Her voice  
trailed off and she shrank away from him as Nathan stood.  
  
"I can fly most of us." I said. The words were regretted as  
soon as they left my mouth. If I flew everyone, I'd be  
exhausted--drained--when we got there.  
  
"Ye won' have tae do it alone." Terry stepped up next to  
me. "I think we can do it t'gether."  
  
"Good." Domino's voice was clipped and quiet. "Any specific  
way we should stand?"  
  
"Just... Closer in." I sighed and pulled. A telekinetic  
glow surrounded us all. I nodded to Terry. "If you would?"  
  
She closed her eyes and breathed in, then expelled a high  
pitched sound. For an instant, nothing happened, then she  
opened her eyes and directed the sound sort of behind and  
under the bubble.  
  
We wavered into the air, then steadied, as Siryn caught her  
stride. And, slowly, between her voice and my TK, we  
floated towards New York. Faster than walking would have  
been, but not by much. Until we hit better winds, that was.  
  
The speed we travelled at got considerably faster as soon  
as we hit them.  
  
End Chapter Thirteen  
  
=====  
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and  
"Love is Strange"...' 


End file.
